


damnatis daemonium

by shakespork



Series: damnatis daemonium [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adult Dipper Pines, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Historical, BiblicalDemon!Bill, Cults, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon Worshipping Cult, Dipper Pines' Real Name, I guess???, M/M, Older Dipper Pines, Ritual Sex, Virginal!Dipper, illuminaughty, summoned the wrong demon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5130170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespork/pseuds/shakespork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Historical!AU: 19-year-old Dipper volunteers himself as an offering to a demon so that he can finally join the famed Brotherhood. Of course, nothing goes to plan, and they summon the wrong demon.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dipper shivered, pulling the cloak tighter across his shoulders.  
His eyes darted around the stone chamber, flitting from corner to corner and focusing on everything but the summoning circle set dead centre in the room. His nerves were jittery from anticipation, and he barely had the presence of mind to stop his leg from jiggling. The stone was cold under his bare feet.

A hush fell across the room.

Six cloaked figures stood up in unison. Each was spaced evenly around the summoning circle, their faces obscured in the shadows of their hoods.

The tallest one nodded, “Let’s begin.”

The figures began lighting candles around the circle, going one by one until the red paint on the floor glowed under the soft orange lights. _No, not paint_ , thought Dipper. It smelled coppery and raw, and stuck to the back of his throat. He felt sick.

The tallest figure offered Dipper a hand. Dipper took it, and the figure pulled him close. Dipper was careful not to scuff the circle with his feet. The torches on the wall were put out by unseen hands, and the room plunged into half-gloom. It immediately felt colder, and Dipper thought that he might’ve been able to see his breath ghosting out, loud in the heavy silence of the room. 

“Let it be known!” the main figure cried, raising its hands up. The five others followed suit. “O, ravenous God! O, festering Demon! We pay homage to You.”

The figure gave Dipper a gentle push at his lower back. Dipper let out a shaky breath, and stepped into the summoning circle. He was handed a golden chalice, filled to the brim with a shimmering red liquid. The main figure nodded, saying quietly, “Drink it.”  
  
Dipper looked at the drink, uncertain, and then drank it all down in a single gulp. It weighed heavy and warm in his gut. The main figure nodded again, and raised its hands up once more.

“Let it be known! On this hallowed eve, we offer You untainted blood! We offer You a willing soul! We offer you this, and we ask for nothing! Let it be known!”  
  
The five figures echoed, “Let it be known.”

Dipper moved to the centre and knelt down. His heart was pounding, and he wondered how the others didn’t hear it. The circle around him seemed to glow and pulsate with energy, feeling cold and oppressive to the touch. The air around him felt heavier than it was moments ago. Dipper panted, sending warm breaths out into the room. He felt hot, too hot. Sweat trickled down his neck and along his spine.

“O, ravenous God! O, festering Demon!” the figure cried again. “Show yourself, and feast on our offerings! Let it be known! Let it be known!”

The figures continued to chant, their voices getting louder and louder, higher in vigour and desperation. The candles flickered and blinked, casting jilting black shadows on the stones of the chamber. Dipper’s eyes flitted to the walls and watched as these shadows grew and lengthened, reaching up into the blackened ceiling and sucking out the remaining light. The voices continued to get louder and louder, the chants becoming rhythmical and regular, almost like the beating of a frantic heart, calling endlessly for their God to show itself and bless them with its wisdom. Something was choking him, some of that black darkness that seemed to fill the entire room. It wound its way down Dipper’s throat and into his lungs, burning his throat and making his eyes water. Was it fear, or anticipation? The candles grew dimmer and dimmer, their flickering flames dying as he watched, growing smaller and smaller on their dripping wax pedestals.

With a last sputter, the candles died. The chanting stopped.

Feet shuffled uncertainly on the floor. Had it worked?  
Dipper heard his own frantic breath, barrelling in and out in the pitch black.

A sudden explosion of fire lit the room.

Dipper cried out, shielding his eyes from the blinding white light. _It’s cold_ , he thought, _Cold fire_. Spots danced in front of him, and he blinked to regain his sight. He could vaguely discern a shape, a shadow standing close by. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? A party? Just for me? Isn’t this nice.”

Dipper stiffened at the voice of the newcomer. It grated on his ears, sending shivers down his spine. He blinked and looked up.  
  
Something smoke-like and inhuman greeted him, and Dipper’s heart froze in fear. The thing was made of fire and brimstone, horns rising up from its head and forming a crown around it. Its eyes, five of them, were yellow like smouldering coal, and slitted like a cat’s. When Dipper blinked, he thought he saw an afterimage – as if the thing was only partially showing itself, the room being too small to fully show off its giant, monstrous glory.

One of the chanters was first to recover. “M-my lord!”  
  
Dipper looked over and saw the chanter throw himself on the ground in a reverent bow. The other copied, in varying degrees of speed and grace.

The newcomer – _The Demon_ , Dipper’s mind supplied helpfully – bared his teeth in some semblance of a grin. “Ooh, haven’t heard that one in a while. I like it!”

The chanter looked up and swallowed, “Are-are you not the Demon Naberus?”

The Demon paused, and then grinned again. “That I am, kid. What can I do for ya?”

Before the chanter could speak again, the leader of the worshippers stood up and shushed him. The leader’s voice was deep and respectful.  
“We ask for nothing, my Lord.” He bowed. “We, your humble servants, only wish to thank you for your kind patronage, and present you with this gift.”  
  
With that, the leader lifted his hand and pointed at Dipper.

The Demon looked down, noticing Dipper for the first time. Dipper froze under the stare of its slitted yellow eyes, feeling his heart kick-start back into its rabbit pace. The Demon cocked its head.  
  
With a shaky breath, Dipper rose and bowed, willing his knees not to buckle under him. His words came out of him in a stutter, “M-my lord, I am but your humble servant, h-here to do with as you please. P-please use me as you see fit.”  
  
The Demon’s eyes widened, and he stood back to give Dipper a once-over. The sight seemed to please it, because it broke again into one of its wide-toothed grins and flapped a hand at the leader.  
  
“Leave us.” 

  


The leader bowed, and shuffled out of the room. The rest of the chanters hurried to follow him, shutting the heavy wooden door as they left.

Dipper was left alone with the Demon. His gut twisted.

Once the last of the footsteps faded, the Demon began circling him, its steps impossibly light for a thing of its size. It looked him up and down, sized him up like a lion sized up its prey. Dipper stayed perfectly still, frozen to the spot. His breaths barrelled out of him. He was going to start hyperventilating, and he did his best to try and relax and remember his instructions.

With shaking hands, he reached up and undid the clasp of his cloak.  
  
The loose fabric fell in a heap around his feet, and Dipper was left standing completely naked.  
  
The Demon stopped pacing.  
  
It stood completely still, just outside of Dipper’s field of vision. Every instinct he had told him not to turn his head, so he stood completely still.

The quiet “Oh” was so soft that he nearly missed it.  
  
Plucking up his courage, Dipper said, “M-my Lord Naberus, I offer myself to you, to do with as you please.”  
  
The Demon chuckled, and didn’t move from his spot. Dipper wanted to turn around and look at it, if only to be able to somewhat defend himself if the Demon attacked him, but he was rooted into place by his own fear.  
  
“As I please, hmm?” The Demon’s voice came right next to his ear, and Dipper had to stifle a whimper. “Seems to me that you’ve got a certain use in mind already.” A cold clawed finger trailed up the shell of his ear, and Dipper shivered. His confusion must’ve been evident, because the Demon huffed and hissed into his ear, “I can _smell_ that aphrodisiac on you, kid.”  
  
“Is-is this not what you w-wanted?” Dipper asked.  
  
The Demon hummed instead of answering, and trailed its claws across Dipper’s shoulders. Dipper’s shivering was uncontrollable now; wracking his body and making his hands clench and unclench. The Demon chuckled again.  
  
“I had another use in mind, but…” the Demon said. A tongue flicked over the nape of his neck, and Dipper gasped. The Demon breathed into his ear, “I guess this will do as well.”

In a sudden blink the world spun, and Dipper found himself on his hands and knees, his cloak spread under him like a blanket. He didn’t even have time to draw a breath before the Demon knelt behind him, pulling his head up by his hair with one hand and stuffing his open mouth with the digits of the other. Dipper whimpered and whined around the intrusion, and the Demon laughed. Dipper wanted to protest, but he had to follow this through, he didn’t have a choice now. He had to do this.  
  
“Suck ‘em clean, kid, or it’ll only hurt more later.”  
  
Dipper shook his head, closing his eyes against the feeling of saliva dribbling down his chin. _At least the Demon is trying to be nice_ , he thought hysterically. Dipper was fully aware of what the Demon could do, of the power the creature possessed. It could just force him, rip him open and leave him for dead, but it seemed to be enjoying this human game enough to be somewhat considerate.  
  
Dipper’s head stung from the Demon’s grip on his hair. Dipper did his best to lean back into the Demon to ease the pull, and felt his bare skin touch something warm and very, very human. He stiffened.  
  
“D’you like my new form, kid? Made it special, just for you.”  
  
Dipper turned his head as best as he could, and finally caught sight of the Demon.  
  
It was beautiful.  
  
It had a narrow, pointed face made of sharp square features, softened slightly by the curve of its lips and the arch of its neck. Golden hair fell in curls around its high cheekbones, catching the candle light until it glowed like a halo. Its eyes were the only thing that betrayed the illusion of humanity – narrow, yellow and still slitted like a cat’s. Dipper glanced down briefly, and his cheeks coloured red from what he saw. A long expanse of perfect naked skin, toned arms, and a happy trail that ended in a small patch of curly blond hair. The shaft protruding from that little patch is what made him pause.  
  
_How was that thing even supposed to fit?_ Dipper’s thoughts screeched.  
  
The sight made him flush, and Dipper squirmed in the Demon’s grip, moving his legs closer to conceal his own growing problem. The aphrodisiac was working, if the growing, gnawing heat in his stomach was anything to go by. The Demon didn’t seem to notice. The fingers in his mouth jolted and moved.  
  
“C’mon, kid, slick ‘em up, before I get too impatient.” It hissed.  
  
Dipper shook his head again, this time succeeding in dislodging the digits in his mouth. He jerked his head up so that the Demon wouldn’t be able to put them back in.  
  
“Your own funeral, kid—”  
  
“I’ve prepared already, m-my lord.” Dipper breathed out.  
  
The Demon stopped, and twisted Dipper’s head around so it could look at him.  
  
Dipper saw its wide eyes, and heard its quiet, “Oh?”  
  
Its hand wandered down, and Dipper’s legs splayed open of their own accord. A long finger snuck down, and pressed itself against his entrance. Dipper stifled a shiver, holding as still as possible as it probed into him, feeling the slick there and testing out the stretch. Dipper’s cock flushed, and he shut his eyes tight in embarrassment.  
  
“So you did.” the Demon breathed. The finger retreated, and the hand in Dipper’s hair finally loosened its iron grip.

In another disorientating blink, Dipper found himself pressed against the floor, a hand pushing his face down to the cool stones. Dipper whimpered, bracing himself against the rock and trying to push back. The Demon above him laughed, deep and malevolent, and pushed him right back down. Dipper shivered at the sound. The hand at his throat tightened enough to be threatening.  
  
“Stay down, kid.” the Demon hissed.  
  
It lined itself up with Dipper’s entrance, and Dipper had a few moments to prepare before it started pushing in.  
  
Dipper yelped at the stretch, hands clenching and unclenching above his head. His mind flashed back to what he saw; the Demon’s thick shaft nestled among its pubic hair, red and engorged with blood.  
  
_There’s no way that it was so excited by me_ , Dipper thought. He could faintly remember what he’d read in books and manuscripts, how demons could control their physical forms at will, how they could manipulate the states of their bodies and change things right down to the flow of blood and the sensitivity of their nerve endings.  
  
The Demon was completely silent, and Dipper began worrying if he had displeased it. He willed himself to relax, sagging against the stone. His discarded cloak had bunched under his hips, and Dipper took a moment to thank whatever deity was out there for this little comfort.  
  
The Demon grunted and pushed in right up to the hilt, gripping Dipper’s hips tightly. Dipper could feel the bruises start to form. Without letting Dipper adjust, the Demon pulled out and slammed back in. Dipper hissed, wiggling his ass to accommodate the wide girth of the Demon’s cock.  
  
The Demon set a punishing pace that left Dipper hissing and out of breath. His hands scrabbled against the floor to stop himself from sliding forward from the force of the Demon’s thrusts. The aphrodisiac warming his gut hadn’t had time to fully work yet, to drown out his senses and make the coupling easier by addling his mind, so Dipper was fully present in the moment.  
  
A particularly hard thrust had him moaning.  
  
The Demon kept its pace up, completely unaffected by Dipper’s small noises of growing pleasure.  
  
The whole thing felt too impersonal, completely different to what Dipper thought it would be like. Sure, he was a virgin, and he wouldn’t deny his complete lack of experience in this sort of thing, but he knew how to read. He read a lot, everything from medical textbooks that treated sex like a specimen to be dissected and studied, to glimpses of Ancient Greek myths that had him feeling warm and flustered. Now he remembered a particular myth, in which the tragic demigod hero had ten years to spend with his one love. Dipper read through pages and pages of stanzas and garbled phrases, struggling to translate the dead language into something he could understand, but it had still left him breathless. It described, in its old barbaric way, how the hero caressed his lover, how he stroked his cock and made his lover cry in pleasure, how he—  
  
“Ya know, kid, some’d be kinda put off by your daydreaming right now.” hissed the Demon, and Dipper was pulled out of his thoughts by a sharp jab at his prostate. At least, Dipper thought it was his prostate, going by his scarce knowledge of the pleasure centres of the body. He keened and arched his back towards the ground, thrusting back to get some more friction.  
  
He could hear the Demon’s grin in its voice. “I see that aphrodisiac is starting to work.”  
  
Dipper panted and rested his forehead on the cold stone. His elbows were aching, and his knees were scrubbed raw by the rough surface. The heat in his stomach flared up briefly, but then died back down.  
  
The Demon pouted, “Or not. Hmm...”  
  
Dipper wondered when it would be over. The Demon was panting in earnest now, sharp nails digging into the skin of Dipper’s hips. Its thrusts were becoming more erratic and uncontrolled, rocking Dipper with their strength. Dipper moaned and pushed back when some landed at a particularly perfect angle.  
  
The Demon growled and pumped even harder, slamming into Dipper with enough force to jilt him a couple of centimetres forward. After a few more thrusts, it hissed and stopped moving. Dipper felt it curl around him, its nails digging painfully into his side. Its breath ghosted over his lower back as it shuddered and spilled inside him.  
  
Dipper reached down with a shaky hand, grasping his cock and giving himself a few pumps. The orgasm shuddered through him, and he came into his hand.

The Demon disentangled from him and leaned back, head up towards the ceiling. Dipper stayed where he was, on his elbows and knees, and got his breath under control.  
  
After a few moments of wiping his hand on the ground and tying his cloak around him, he stood up. The Demon watched him with narrowed eyes, staying completely still save for its heaving chest.  
  
Dipper was unsure of what to do. He shifted nervously on his feet, gripping his cloak tight to shield himself from the Demon’s eyes. He took it in fully now; the way the candles hit its luminescent skin, and the way its muscles coiled underneath, ready for action. The sight of its flaccid cock had him blushing and looking away.  
  
The Demon huffed out a laugh. “What, you’re getting flustered _now_ , kid?”  
  
Dipper’s gaze stayed rooted to the side.  
  
After a moment, Dipper gave an awkward bow and stuttered out, “M-my lord, I hope I have satisfied you and your n-needs.” He added in another bow at the end, just to be sure.  
  
The Demon looked him up and down from its kneeling position.  
  
Dipper didn’t know where to look.  
  
It cocked an eyebrow. “Well, not really, if I’m to be honest.”  
  
Dipper blushed bright red and stammered, “W-what?”  
  
The Demon snorted. “It was a shoddy lay, kid. I’d had old women who fucked with more vigour than that.”  
  
Dipper could feel his face burning, but he didn’t know if it was from fear, embarrassment or anger. His eyes darted about the room as he tried to find something to say.  
  
The Demon beat him to it. “You’re not an actual Brother, are you?”  
  
Dipper gasped. “W-well, I… I-I am a brother, I mean, I have a sister, b-but, I guess-” he babbled. Embarrassment. What he felt was definitely embarrassment. It wasn’t every day that you got told you were a terrible shag by a demonic spirit from hell.  
  
“Don’t play stupid with me, kid.” The Demon hissed. “Sit.” It waved its hand, and Dipper legs collapsed beneath him. “Tell me. You’re not of the Brotherhood.” It cocked its head, noticing the way Dipper tried to cover his nakedness and avoided the sight of the Demon’s cock at all costs. “And, my, my, you’re an actual _virgin_ , aren’t you?”  
  
Dipper frowned, and tried to shuffle away.  
  
The Demon continued. “Was that your first fuck? You’re looking more and more like a ripe pepper, so I’m gonna go with ‘yes’. We demons don’t care, really. Don’t know where you humans got that from.”  
  
Dipper frowned again, his fear forgotten in favour of his growing curiosity, “Wait, you don’t actually care if your sacrifices are virginal?”  
  
“And the stammer’s gone!” the Demon crowed. “Yes, kid, we don’t give two flying shits about your weird human social concepts. We’re immortal, virginity does nothing for us!”  
  
Dipper blushed at the former comment, but his thirst for knowledge picked up by the end of the Demon’s speech. He leaned forward and asked, “Wait, so do you not care about virginity as a whole, or just when it comes to s-sex?” Saying the word out loud still felt dirty, but Dipper soldiered on.  
  
The Demon cocked its head. _It looks so much like a cat when it does that_ , Dipper remarked.  
  
It licked its lips and answered, “We like a bit of virgin blood, if that’s what you mean. Some like popping cherries just because of the sensitivity of these virginal human partners, but sensitivity isn’t all that rare in experienced partners either.”  
  
Dipper’s head filled with questions and possibilities, completely brushing over the Demon’s dirty comments. He rushed to get them all out, “Virgin blood as in blood that hasn’t been used in sacrifices yet, or blood that is clear of diseases? Can promiscuous people have virgin blood? Is virgin blood better because the spirit of the donor hasn’t been used yet?”  
  
The Demon rested back onto two hands, but Dipper still didn’t notice how far he’d leaned into the Demon’s space. They were just inches apart. Dipper also hadn’t noticed that his cloak had slipped down his shoulders, or how his hand was mere centimetres away from touching the Demon’s inner thigh.  
  
The Demon huffed, “Jeez, kid, demanding much? To answer those quickly; unused in sacrifice, yes, and yes.” It looked into Dipper’s eyes. “Why are you so interested in this anyway?”  
  
Those yellow slits brought Dipper back to full, uncomfortable awareness. He pulled the cloak up and shuffled back, looking away from the Demon. It was easy to forget whom he was speaking to - the Demon just looked so _believably_ human.  
  
_And extremely attractive too_ , Dipper’s mind supplied. He blushed and bit his lip.  
  
“I like mysteries.” he said finally. He realised how childish it sounded the moment it left his mouth.  
  
The Demon chuckled, and broke into a slow, deep laugh. Dipper looked down and clenched his fists, counting this as the second time in one day that he had made a fool of himself in front of this spirit.  
  
“Ooh, I like you, kid.” the Demon said suddenly. “You’re fun.” Dipper looked up just in time to catch its smirk.

In a quick movement, it had him pinned to the ground.  
  
Dipper stared up at its yellow eyes, too dumbfounded to even make a sound. Some part of him wondered if he’d ever get used to how quickly a demon could move. _Who said you have to get used to this? It’s not like you’ll ever see another demon again_ , his mind whispered.  
  
The Demon grabbed Dipper’s hands and pinned them above his head.  
  
“Here’s the deal, kid,” It said. “You want knowledge? I’ll give you some. You’re gonna have to tell me something in return, though. And since it’s been such a long while since my last lay, we’re gonna fuck and then talk. Got it?”  
  
Dipper opened and closed his mouth like a gawping fish, still staring at the Demon’s eyes. Small dreads of fear began winding up in his chest. It smirked again, before lowering its head towards Dipper’s.  
  
Dipper had enough time to shout, “H-hey, what—” before a pair of lips covered his and muffled the sound.  
  
Dipper’s eyes shut tight when the Demon’s tongue snaked into his mouth and tangled with his. It was sweet and coppery to the taste, making his mouth water. Dipper couldn’t do much but wriggle and let the Demon attack him, squirming when a hand reached between them to wrench away his cloak. Another hand tangled with his hair, tilting his head up for a perfect angle.  
  
_Wait, there’s one hand still trapping my hands, one in my hair, and one on my chest, then_ … Dipper’s eyes snapped open and flew downwards.  
  
An extra arm had grown from the Demon’s side, and was busy spreading the cloak out around them. Dipper’s shout of surprise was muffled by the Demon’s mouth. Dipper started squirming about in earnest, trying to get away from that weird third hand. He didn’t want it to touch him. It looked weird and sick and wrong.  
  
The Demon paused in its attack of his face to lean back and give Dipper a frown. “Relax, kid, it’s like you’ve never seen an extra arm before.”  
  
Dipper watched as the arm finished its business and then simply _retreated back_ into the Demon’s torso, swallowed up by the shifting skin. After another blink, it was like nothing had ever happened.  
  
Dipper stayed frozen, eyes fixed on the spot on the Demon’s chest where the arm had come from. The Demon sighed as if he was dealing with an errant child, and leaned back down to nuzzle at Dipper’s neck.  
  
Dipper became distantly aware of a growing heat in his stomach.  
  
He took in a deep breath, feeling the air warm up immediately, gasping at the way it seemed to fill his chest with warmth. The Demon stilled.  
  
Its tongue flickered out to brush Dipper’s neck.  
  
Dipper hissed and whined, arching up into the Demon’s grip. The sensation had felt jarring, amplified ten-fold, and suddenly Dipper couldn’t focus on anything but the Demon sucking at his neck.  
  
“W-what did—?” he whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse.  
  
The Demon licked its lips and smirked. “D’you like my magic, kid? Nothing like your weak, human aphrodisiacs. This is the really good stuff.”  
  
Dipper wanted to ask when the Demon had time to give it to him, but the answer presented itself immediately – the kiss. Dipper knew that no mouth was supposed to taste that sweet.  
  
He moaned when the Demon trailed its mouth down his throat and to his collarbones. His hands pulled and twisted in the Demon’s grip, and he turned his head this way and that to try and make sense of what he was feeling. It felt like he was drugged. Every touch was a burst of fire, sending lightning bolts through his spine and down to his hardening cock. When the Demon bit down into the tendons of his neck, Dipper keened, not knowing whether to pull himself away or push further into the Demon’s mouth for more.  
  
Whatever the Demon fed him, it really was the good stuff.  
  
A hand trailed down Dipper’s chest, light touches leaving Dipper hyperaware of the Demon’s hands. He arched into them with a whine. The Demon chuckled at Dipper’s neck, moving up to watch Dipper’s face as its hand moved lower and lower and started scratching at Dipper’s abdomen. The sensations went straight to Dipper’s groin and wracked his body with shivers. He saw his cock rising up tentatively from the corner of his eye, the head of it slick with precum, and the sight made him moan and writhe underneath the Demon’s hand. It laughed and returned back to sucking Dipper’s neck, its hand scratching at his abdomen all the while.  
  
Dipper felt like he was losing his mind. The heat in his stomach had flared and grown, until his whole body felt like it was on fire. He couldn’t think straight anymore – everything was a blur of heat and touch, an endless _more more more_ that didn’t leave room for anything else. He panted and sighed, pressing himself fully into the Demon’s open palm. If he could see himself now, he’d notice how unseeing his eyes were, his pupils blown so wide that there was only a thin slimmer of colourful iris left.  
  
The Demon bit the crook of his neck, and Dipper cried out. “L-Lord Naberus!”  
  
The Demon growled and grabbed Dipper’s cock. Dipper choked on a scream, his senses exploding from the stimulus. He arched off the floor, hands and feet scrabbling against the stone. The Demon gave him a few vicious pumps, and Dipper felt like he was about to sob. It was almost painful, too much and too sudden for him.  
  
“Ok, first piece of information, kid.” the Demon hissed. “Don’t know who this Naberus guy is, but it ain’t me.”  
  
Dipper was too far gone to feel any fear. He whimpered, “T-then who—?”  
  
“Seriously, you Brotherhoods get worse and worse every century.” the Demon continued, ignoring Dipper. “To summon me instead of some backwater demonic nobody? You must’ve really messed up with your spellcasting, kid.”  
  
The Demon tightened its grip around Dipper cock, and Dipper moaned and arched up. Deciding that Dipper was sufficiently hard, it let go, and Dipper keened his distress at the loss of contact. The Demon’s hand trailed even lower, slender fingers probing at Dipper’s entrance. Dipper sighed and spread his legs wider, the Demon’s comments forgotten for the moment. It grinned and pushed inside the tight hole. Dipper barely felt the stretch.  
  
_Must be still loose from the first time_ … He wrinkled his nose when the Demon scissored, pushing its fingers up towards that sweet bundle of nerves deep inside him. Dipper gasped and pushed back onto the Demon’s fingers, trying to hit that same spot again.  
  
The Demon’s breath ghosted over his neck. “You’re good to go, kid.”  
  
It let go of Dipper’s hands and pulled him up by his shoulders, until Dipper was seated fully in the Demon’s lap. It guided his hands to its shoulders, and pushed his legs out to bracket the Demon’s hips.  
  
The view from the new position had Dipper blushing. The Demon was as cool as ever, bathed in the light of the candles. It glinted off of its skin and made its eyes glow in the gloom. It looked holy. Heavenly.  
  
It gripped Dipper’s hips and lifted him up. Dipper gasped and clutched the Demon’s shoulders.  
  
“Easy does it, kid.” It whispered.  
  
Dipper understood what he had to do. He braced himself on his knees, and eased himself slowly onto the Demon’s cock. He felt the head pass his tight right of muscle, and both of them hissed as Dipper sunk lower. He was still slick from the first time, so he sunk down easily. He stilled when he felt the Demon’s balls against his ass, and his breath misted into the cool air. Somehow, though, he was burning up, his skin sweating and feverish to the touch.  
  
He wondered what he must look like right now.  
  
Dipper giggled.  
  
The Demon stopped, and cocked an eyebrow in question.  
  
Dipper shook his head, looking down and away. He whispered, “My face feels… really warm. I just thought… that I maybe look like a tomato right now.” He giggled again, overcome by nervous giddiness.  
  
The Demon frowned, tilting Dipper’s chin until they were eye to eye. “You’re still coherent? My, you’re really strong, kid. I’ve seen some grown men downed by the stuff I’ve given you.”  
  
Dipper had enough presence of mind to blush at the praise. _Was it really praise?_ he thought. His thoughts were more sluggish than usual. It made him giggle again.  
  
The Demon pulled at Dipper’s hair and turned his head, covering Dipper’s lips with its own. Dipper tried to respond, moving his lips weakly against the Demon, but he just felt so heavy. The sweetness returned, but there was much more of it now. Dipper sighed and swallowed it down, following the Demon’s mouth when it moved away to get more of the sugary taste.  
  
Immediately, the heat in his stomach doubled and flared to life.  
  
Dipper gasped at the sensation, feeling his thoughts drop away completely one by one, leaving his mind blissfully blank.  
  
He felt light.  
  
Nothing mattered anymore except for the body beneath him.  
  
Nothing but that and the burning, churning need for touch.  
  
The Demon’s skin under his hands felt warm and inviting. Dipper noticed its scent for the first time; a soft, spicy musk that smelled a little like ginger and a lot like a man. It made his mouth water. He nuzzled his face up to the Demon’s neck, chasing the scent up to its strongest point. He wanted, needed to taste it.  
  
The Demon’s skin felt silky and supple under his tongue, and he sucked at it, trailing up towards the spot behind the Demon’s ear. The Demon sighed beneath him, carding an almost gentle hand through Dipper’s hair.  
  
“There we go,” it murmured. “You’re just like an animal now, aren’t you?”  
  
Dipper whined, shifting his hips around until the Demon was hissing beneath him. His nose was still buried in the Demon’s hair, but he felt the fullness of the Demon’s cock in him and knew what he should do. Dipper lifted himself up on shaking knees and pushed back down, gasping at the friction. The Demon’s hand in his hair tightened, pushing him hard against its neck, and Dipper clawed at its shoulders, still seeking that elusive scent. The Demon grabbed his ass and lifted him up. Dipper got the Demon’s idea then, pushing himself up and slamming back down, savouring that delicious friction.  
  
“Ah-nn… there we go. Set the pace, kid.” the Demon huffed, gripping Dipper’s lower back as Dipper started to shift.  
  
Dipper’s cock bounced between them as he moved, his hands pushing against the Demon’s shoulders for leverage. The Demon was suckling at his neck now, and Dipper moaned at the feeling, stretching his neck out to give the Demon more space. Its claws scratched lightly at Dipper’s back, making him shiver. The heat in his gut kept building and building, burning warm and bright. It felt good and right and welcoming, and Dipper raced to chase that feeling.  
  
When the Demon nipped at his shoulders, Dipper moaned and opened his eyes, looking at the Demon’s back blearily. His legs were starting to burn, but he didn’t care; the heat in his stomach was becoming unbearable, and he wanted to chase it to the end. The Demon brought its hands around to Dipper’s front, and tweaked his nipples, squeezing them tightly between two fingers. Dipper whined and arched into the Demon’s touch, never once ceasing his bouncing.  
  
The Demon laughed in his ear, its warm breath flowing over his sweaty neck, “You like that, don’t you?”  
  
Dipper found himself nodding, his hair falling into his eyes as he tried to focus them.  
  
Everything was blurry and smudged, the Demon’s eyes the only things that came into focus. They pierced the haze like two beacons, and Dipper swayed towards them, pulled in by their hypnotic intensity. His eyes drifted shut, and he cradled the Demon’s head, pressing his lips against its own in a chaste kiss.  
  
His hips eased out of their frantic pace, slowing down to take their time and grind down onto the Demon’s cock.  
  
Dipper felt its pleased sigh as he licked into its mouth, chasing the lingering sweetness of the aphrodisiac. The Demon trailed its hands down to grasp Dippers hips and press them down, and Dipper broke away to moan at the delicious friction. The Demon’s hands stayed, guiding Dipper’s actions until Dipper got the point and changed his angle, pressing down in a way that let him swallow down more of the Demon’s cock. The Demon hummed its appreciation and returned its hand up to tangle with Dipper’s hair.  
  
Dipper leaned back and wrapped his hands around the Demon’s neck, letting it lick languorously into Dipper’s mouth. He let the Demon tilt its head for a better angle, losing himself in the moment. It was all about touch and smell and sensation, and Dipper thought that he’d never felt this at relaxed his entire life.  
  
A vague thought niggled at the back of his head, but Dipper dismissed it in favour of following the Demon’s mouth and grinding down onto its hips.  
  
Every so slowly, the Demon lowered Dipper down. Dipper’s back was starting to ache at the weird bend, but the Demon’s hands in his hair and at his back supported his weight fully. Just as Dipper felt his shoulders touch the stone floor, the Demon pulled back and grabbed Dipper’s hips. Dipper whined as the cold air brushed his wet lips, and he looked up at the smirking Demon.  
  
It said nothing, lowering its head to latch onto Dipper’s nipple. Dipper keened and arched up, trying to push up on the back of his hands. The Demon’s hands ran up and down his sides, scratching gently, its mouth never leaving Dipper’s chest. Dipper writhed and moaned, aroused beyond measure. The Demon left Dipper’s nipple with a wet pop, its mouth trailing down his’s chest, leaving kisses as it moved lower. Dipper watched with lidded eyes, marvelling at the soft glow of the Demon’s golden hair in the candlelight.  
  
“Move up a little, kid.” It whispered. There was a hazy silence around them now, and there was something reverent and holy about it. Their pants were the only sounds permeating the air.  
  
Dipper pushed up with his bend legs as the Demon balled up his dropped cloak and stuffed it under the small of Dipper’s back. Dipper let his legs unfold and stretch out, sighing as his muscles eased out and relaxed. The Demon was staring at him in the silence, watching the way Dipper moved.  
  
“You know, kid…” it whispered, and Dipper stilled at the confusion in its voice. “I’ve had a lot of bed partners over the centuries, and a lot of them were like you,” It cocked its head to the side. “But also _not_ like you.”  
  
Dipper licked his lips and grinned, doing his best to gather his scattered thoughts for a reply. “I guess I’m a little special.” The effort of saying even that was exhausting, and he let his eyes drift shut.  
  
He didn’t see the Demon frown again, clicking its tongue and muttering, “Has the stuff worn off already? Jeez, kid, spells don’t really do much for you, do they?”  
  
Dipper decided to take that as praise, and he smiled to himself. The warmth in his chest grew.  
  
The Demon huffed and shifted, lowering Dipper’s hips down onto the bunched cloak. Dipper cracked his eyes open to watch the Demon take his’s legs and place them on its shoulders. It lined itself up with Dipper’s entrance, and he gasped in anticipation. Sparing Dipper a quick look, the Demon grabbed his hips and pushed in.  
  
Dipper moaned and arched at the sweet friction, revelling in the feeling of fullness it gave him. A thought niggled in the back of his mind again; something about unanswered questions and vague peril, but Dipper brushed it aside to enjoy the feeling of the Demon’s cock filling him up to the brim. He sighed when the Demon was fully seated inside him, making small noises of pleasure as he adjusted to the stretch. He was loose enough from their previous romps, but the new angle let the Demon slide in further than before.  
  
Dipper watched the Demon move, admiring the way its hands gripped him in place. There was one clutching Dipper’s leg to its neck and one digging into his hip, leaving white crescent marks in the soft skin, but Dipper didn’t mind. He saw the way its muscles coiled and corded beneath its skin. A miracle of existence.  
  
With a strained sigh, the Demon started moving above him. Dipper groaned when it hit his prostate the first time, wiggling his hips to try and get it to do it again. The Demon grinned above him and lifted Dipper’s hips up, picking up speed until it was hitting that perfect bundle of nerves every time. Dipper’s cock was so flushed that he thought it’d gone numb, but the Demon’s persistent and perfect marksmanship reminded Dipper just how turned on he was. The heat in his stomach build with every thrust of the Demon’s hips until Dipper was moaning and writhing underneath it.  
  
The Demon leaned in to lap at his nipples, almost folding Dipper in half in the process. It caught one of the nubs between its teeth and rolled it around, worrying at the sensitive bud. Dipper cried out and squirmed, caught in a delicious mix of pleasure and pain.  
  
His hands tangled in the Demon’s hair, and he moaned, “F-faster, AHnn—, faster, _please!_ ” His plea trailed off into a high-pitched keen, and he jolted his hips backwards to meet the Demon’s thrusts.  
  
“Bossy,” the Demon huffed, but it obliged, putting its hands up to grip Dipper’s legs and slam into his tight hole. Dipper threw his head back and screamed. His mind was a constant stream of _yes please harder faster moremoremore_ , and he was so lost in the sensations that he didn’t notice that he’d cried that out loud.  
  
The Demon braced its hands on either side of Dipper’s head, its hips slamming in and out of him with such force that Dipper founding himself sliding back on the stone floor. He gripped the Demon’s arms and put all of his strength into thrusting back against its cock.  
  
It shifted once more, and then every single powerful hit was landing on Dipper’s prostate. He keened, his legs tensing against the Demon’s back.  
  
“I’m gonna— I’m gonna AHhnn!” he sobbed, hands rising up to tangle in the Demon’s hair. “Please, I—!”  
  
The Demon dropped onto one elbow, pressing its forehead to Dipper’s. With the other hand, he reached between them and gave Dipper’s cock a few swift jerks.  
  
Dipper screamed, his body arching off of the floor, eyes wide and sightless, and he was coming.  
  
He saw white.  
  
His hands tightened in a death grip in the Demon’s hair, and he felt his innards clench down on its pumping cock. Clear strings of cum spurted out and painted his chest, the liquid hot and sticky to the touch. The Demon hissed above him, the noise steadily growing into a roar as it fucked Dipper through his orgasm. Dipper choked on his cries, his senses completely overwhelmed by everything he was feeling.  
  
After a few more forceful thrusts, it buried itself deep in Dipper’s ass and stilled.  
  
Dipper felt it spill inside him, hot and fluid.  
  
It stayed braced above him, its breaths barrelling out as if it’d just run a mile. Dipper sagged onto the floor, sated and boneless, closing his eyes and letting his breath return to him.

They stayed like that for a few more moments, neither wanting to waste precious energy by moving. Clarity was slowly returning to Dipper’s mind with every breath that he took. He still felt no fear, though, content to stay beneath the Demon and revel it its warmth.  
  
Finally, the Demon sighed and went to move Dipper’s legs off of its shoulders. They both hissed when its cock slid out of Dipper’s ass. He felt cum ooze out of him, cooling on his thighs.  
  
The Demon rolled over and sat on its heels, head back and breath misting the air.  
  
It was so quiet.  
  
Dipper reached out blindly and snagged the cloak, pulling it over himself as best as he could.  
  
The Demon looked at him through lidded eyes. “That was good.”  
  
Dipper sighed, his head lolling to the side.  
  
The candles flickered. Dipper saw the wax oozing onto the ground and forming white puddles.  
  
A question sprung up into his mind. He turned towards the Demon, taking few moments to pull together enough energy to say, “So who are you?”  
  
The Demon hummed and raised an eyebrow.  
  
Dipper pushed himself up, using the cloak to cover up his cooling skin. “If… if you’re not Lord Naberus.”  
  
The Demon grinned and laughed, “Oh no, kid, we had a deal. I give something, I get something. You learned that I’m not Naberus, so I get a question now.” It leaned forward, looking Dipper straight in the eye. “Who are you, kid?”  
  
Dipper swallowed and looked down. “I am but your humble servant, my lord.”  
  
“Pshh,” the Demon hissed. “Bullshit. You’re not a Brother, and you don’t act like a common demon worshipper either. Who are you?”  
  
Dipper tightened the cloak around his shoulders, “Uh, m-my name is Able, but, uhm, I just call myself Dipper...”  
  
“That doesn’t answer my question.” said the Demon. “Why are you here?”  
  
Dipper frowned. “I gave an answer. Give some, get some, right? It’s my turn.”  
  
The Demon’s eyes widened. Then it smirked, leaned back and gave Dipper and appreciative look. “Fiesty.” It shrugged. “Fine.”  
  
Dipper swallowed, “Who are you?”  
  
The Demon shrugged again. “You can call me…” It stopped for a minute, searching for a name. “Bill. Bill Cipher.”  
  
“That’s not an answer!”  
  
“To bad, kid.” the Demon spread its hands. “You didn’t give me all the info I asked for either.”  
  
“Ah, fine.” Dipper huffed. “My name is Dipper Pines, I’m nineteen, and I’m not a Brother. I wanted to join the Brotherhood since I was twelve, but couldn’t leave my home to look for them until I reached my majority. It took me a year to track them down, and since I have no blood relations or ties to the Brotherhood, they’ll only let me join if I do something for them first. So I said I’d be their offering or whatever, and me being a v-virgin, it was a bonus.” He nodded, glancing at the Demon. “So there.”  
  
The Demon – no, _Bill_ – looked impressed. It folded its – his – arms on his chest and bobbed his head. “Well then…” He said. “I am…” He paused to think. “A few millennia old, I think.”  
  
Bill’s back straightened, and his eyes glowed brighter. “I am the demon Cipheres, of Gehenna.”  
  
Dipper’s breath hitched, and heart stopped in its tracks.  
  
A cold lace of fear wound through him, scattering his warm comfort and banishing his misplaced confidence.  
  
Knowledge surfaced in his mind, glimpses of passages in manuscripts and stanzas in bibles, and he swallowed. It seemed to get stuck in his throat. The niggling thoughts he’d pushed away came back in full force.  
  
“Th-… the War Demon Cipheres?” he whispered.  
  
Bill grinned, his mouth all sharp teeth and blood-red gums. “The one and only, kid.”  
  
His arms unfurled, and slowly, slowly reached towards Dipper’s head.  
  
Dipper stayed stock-still, his breath caught in his lungs. His knuckles grew whiter the harder he clenched them around his cloak. He watched with wide eyes as Bill’s clawed fingers reached up towards the crown of his head.  
  
A shiver ran through him when Bill’s fingers touched his forehead, brushing away his hair. Dipper stared ahead dumbly, watching as Bill’s grin grew.  
  
“Aha!” Bill crowed. “That explains it.” He tapped Dipper’s forehead again.  
  
“W…what?” said Dipper.  
  
“Your mark, kid,” said Bill. “It explains why I haven’t been hearing any of your thoughts.” He looked Dipper in the eye, his expression confused, as if he was explaining something Dipper should have known already. “Demons are telepathic. Why didn’t you tell me you had a blocker? It’s been bothering me since I got here.”  
  
Dipper was bewildered. “I have a _what?_ ”  
  
Bill sighed, exasperated. “A blocker, kid, a blocker! You humans sometimes call them thought-shields, or psychic blocks or something.” He shrugged. “It’s difficult magic, and kinda rare too. Though this one…” He hummed and tapped Dipper’s forehead. “This one’s particularly strong.”  
  
Dipper was completely lost. He had a _what?_ How hadn’t he known this before? Was it… was it strong enough to block out even a War Demon? What _was_ it?  
The candles burned lower and lower in their stands. The wax was coming ever closer to the edge of the summoning circle. Dipper hadn’t noticed, so buried in his own thoughts, but Bill did.  
  
He stood up suddenly, making Dipper yelp in surprise and scramble away. Bill’s nakedness was gone, covered by an expensive golden suit that would look more at home in a palace than a dingy underground chamber. Dipper hugged the cloak tighter around himself.  
  
Bill bowed, a grin splitting his face. “Well, it was nice knowing ya, kid, but I really gotta go.” He pointed at the pooling wax. One candle was burning especially low. Bill clicked his heels and bowed again. “ _Communi Cipheres Flavum Trinitas_. May the stars burn brightly in your favour.” He winked. “See ya!”  
  
And with that, he was gone.  
  
  
  
  
Dipper was left staring at the after image of him, adjusting to the sudden emptiness of the room. The candles started extinguishing one by one.  
  
It was so, so quiet.  
  
He heard footsteps racing down the hall. A tentative hand knocked on the door, and it unlocked with a groan. One of the chanters from before poked their head in, looking at Dipper with worry.  
  
“I-is everything… Did it go alright?” they said.  
  
Dipper could only nod dumbly.  
  
They bit their lip and swallowed. “G-good. Good. Um.” They averted their eyes.  
  
Dipper became distinctly aware of his nakedness. The cloak covered most of him, but his legs still poked out. His hair was a mess, having been tussled and tugged and grabbed every which way. Drying cum was starting to flake on his stomach. Dipper blushed.  
  
Another chanted poked their head in, looking around the room. “So, is he gone, then?” they said.  
  
A third voice rolled down the hall, “Is the door unlocked?”  
  
The first chanter shouted back and said, “Yes, it’s open.” Noticing Dipper’s confused expression, they rushed to explain. “It was… it was locked, nobody could get in. I mean, nobody really wanted to, mind you, it would’ve been very awkward, but, yes, after the first hour we started to worry, so…”  
  
“You’re babbling.” the second chanter cut in with a frown. They turned to Dipper. “The door was locked and we couldn’t open it, even with magic.” They looked confused for a moment. “We couldn’t even hear anything. We didn’t… we didn’t know that our Lord Naberus was quite so capable with magic, because the summoning circles tend to temper most of it.”  
  
Dipper just nodded, not knowing what to say.  
  
The two chanters gave him a basin and a cloth, and left him alone to clean himself up a little. Dipper sat there dumbly, thinking about the day and the summoning and Bill’s sudden departure.

  
  


It took him another three minutes to realise that Bill had given him his summoning name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper makes a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> i love yall  
> i hope it lives up to the first chapter  
> please enjoy sin 2.0

The second time Dipper saw Bill Cipher was on the coldest day of January.

After the summoning, they brought him shivering and sore to the chambers of the Grandmaster. Dipper had the time to wonder, _Why is the title ‘Grandmaster’ if it’s a Brotherhood it makes no sense_ , before he was ordered to kneel. The two chanters from before introduced themselves as Gwendolyn-Call-Me-Wendy and Jesus-But-We’re-In-A-Cult-So-It-Might-Be-Blasphemy-So-Just-Call-Me-Soos.  
  
Dipper’s head was starting to ache.  
  
He was tired, cold and itchy. They hadn’t even bothered to bring him any shoes before they pushed him out of the door and into the surprisingly brightly lit hallway. He’d hissed and covered his eyes, and let himself get pushed down along the winding corridors of this maze-like hideout. You’d think the Brotherhood would have better building planning, or maybe have enough money for some carpets or something, seriously, the stone floors were really atmospheric and creepy and all, but they were cold as hell and twice as rough on bare knees.  
  
A deep voice brought him out of his reverie.  
  
“Able Pines?”  
  
Dipper sat up and squeaked, “Yes?” The lights seemed to dim around him.  
  
“You have been brought before the Grandmaster of the Brotherhood of the Blind Eye.” said the voice. It was coming from a curtained dais at the very end of the room, the floor around it flooded by burnt-out candles. Dipper couldn’t see inside at all. The voice said, “You have generously offered your body as tribute to appease our Lord Naberus, and for that we have decided to grant you passage into our sacred halls. What do you say?”  
  
Dipper sat frozen, still mesmerise by the mystery of the voice’s origin. Someone gave him a soft kick, and he jumped up. “Uh, um, yes!” He bowed and corrected himself. “I graciously receive your generous blessings, Grandmaster. I would be honoured to join your Brotherhood.”  
  
The voice sniffed. “Who said anything about joining the Brotherhood? You will merely be able to walk among us. To truly join us, you must pass a test.” Dipper frowned. The voice continued. “It is easy to simply sell your body, but to join the Brotherhood of the Blind Eye, you must display keen intelligence and a drive to pursue knowledge. You will not be one of us until you show that.”  
  
Dipper bristled at the voice’s comments. He was too tired to control his anger, wanting to lash out at the disembodied bint behind the curtains who was daring to insult him. _Haven’t I done enough already?_ Thankfully, Wendy was close by, and she pulled him up and shuffled out of the room before Dipper had the chance. The voice didn’t return.  
  
Outside, Dipper started hissing. “Are they serious? Augh, they hate me!”  
  
Wendy chuckled, “Our Grandmaster is a little huffy today, please don’t mind them. I’m sure they like you.”  
  
“’Like me?’ They just called me a dumb whore!” Dipper bit out.  
  
“Aw, Dipper – it’s Dipper, right? – you’re exaggerating. It wasn’t as bad as that. Just give it time.” said Wendy. She patted him on the back, leading him back down the hallway. “I’m sure it’ll work out. You’re a smart kid, you can do it.”  
  
Dipper huffed out a disbelieving breath, but said nothing.  
  
Wendy stopped and turned back, calling out for Soos and waiting as the man jogged to catch up with them. “Do we have any spare rooms?” she said, leaning into Soos’ ear.  
  
Soos nodded, “I think there’s one upstairs, or two.”  
  
Wendy turned back to Dipper, shaking him a little. He was starting to doze off on his feet. She said, “Hey, do you have a place to stay for tonight?”  
  
Dipper nodded, rubbing his face. “Yeah, I’ve a room in the Falls Inn.”  
  
Wendy bit her lip. “That’s kinda far from here. Can you get there on your own? Cause we’ve got some rooms for you here if you want.”  
  
Dipper shook his head. “No, thank you, all my stuff is there anyway. Plus, I…” He rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t really feel welcome here at the moment.”  
  
“Aw, Dipper, of course you are!” said Wendy, rubbing his back. “You’ve done us a great service tonight, we owe you one!”  
  
“Thanks Wendy, but I’m gonna go.” Dipper said apologetically. “Thanks for, uh, having me, I guess?”  
  
“Okay.” she said.  
  
Her and Soos led him up to the main entrance. Soos fetched Dipper his clothes, and apologised when he had to blindfold him before they walked out of the hideout.  
  
“Club rules, sorry, mate.” he said, guiding Dipper through the forest paths until they reached a road. When Dipper looked back, he couldn’t even see the path they’d come down by. The confusion must have shown on his face, because Wendy laughed.  
  
“I did the same thing when I first joined. The path covers itself up.” She winked. “Neat bit of magic, that one is.”  
  
Dipper smiled, impressed. He waved them goodbye and started walking toward the town.  
  
When he looked back again, they were gone, vanished into the mountain forest.

It took him two months to find a grand enough research task to undertake, and another three to get completely stuck with it.  
  
As autumn flew by, burying the town first under a golden sea of leaves and then under a heavy blanket of snow, Dipper wondered why he’d chosen it in the first place.

He was sitting in the back of the Falls Inn, swamped by old books and parchment, when the idea came to him. He’d been stuck at the small table for hours, reading through a medical journal and praying that his candle didn’t burn out before he finished. He’d become such a regular fixture in the inn’s little eating hall that the matron brought him his soup without a word. It had gone cold hours ago, but Dipper hadn’t noticed.  
  
Then, two men had sat down close by, complaining of something or other.  
  
One of them said, “It stung like fecking greek fire, it did!”  
  
Dipper froze, eyes wide.  
  
He raised his head slowly upwards, panning up to the ceiling.  
  
He felt as if angels should have started singing in that moment, or at least something besides the regular din of the food hall should have accompanied his revelation, but nothing happened.  
  
He stayed that way for a while, staring at the dark ceilingboards.  
  
Finally, he whispered, “Oh my god.”

As the autumn started melting into winter and the town started preparing its eaves and rooftops for Yuletide, Dipper found out that greek fire wasn’t as simple as it sounded at first.  
  
He found mentions of it in the verses of the Iliad, memoirs of survivors of Mongol attacks from the ninth century, and in naval records of various ancient states, but nothing ever gave him its full composition. It teased and nipped and prodded at it, mentioning saltpetre and quicklime, snickering about pitch and naphtha and bitumen, but it was never enough. Dipper had burnt off his eyebrows enough times to know that.  
  
No matter how many times he tried, no matter how many different combinations of the ingredients he mixed, he couldn’t recreate greek fire. It would either burn out in the water, not light at all, or simply explode in his face. In all cases, the end result would be nothing like the infamous weapon of mass destruction described by the ancient Greek scholars.  
  
_Something’s missing_ , Dipper thought.  
  
Now, he was sitting in his little attic room, reading over his notes for what felt like the thousandth time that night. His candle was burning low, and the night air was curling in even through his shut windows. At this point, staying at the Falls Inn had become less about availability of other accommodation and more about pure stubborn pride. It wasn’t as if he would be out of place at the Brotherhood’s headquarters – he’d visited its halls in search of information so many times that most assumed he was a Brother already. No, Dipper didn’t want to stay with the Brotherhood until he proved his point, until he’d shown that damn Grandmaster that he was worthy of the Brotherhood’s name.  
  
He sighed and rubbed his chin. He felt three days’ worth of stubble rasp under his hand. His eyes were heavy and sore, focusing and unfocusing in a desperate bid to ward off sleep.  
  
_C’mon, you can do this_ , he thought. He tapped his nails against the wooden table, trying to connect the dots. _Photophor, resin, saltpetre, naphtha… what’s missing, what’s missing?_ He groaned and dug his fingers into his hair. _Quicklime, bitumen, heptane, niter…_  
  
The parchment in front of him was covered in scribbles, words crossed and uncrossed and half-heartedly repeated again and again and again until they were drilled into his head. Similar papers littered the desk, and spilled onto the floor, left there to be ruffled by the wandering night breeze.  
  
He sighed and pushed away from the table, the floor creaking as he moved his chair out. He scratched his head and rubbed his eyes, glancing back at the page.  
  
It was late.  
  
The moon outside his window was full and at its peak. Stars twinkled.  
  
The matron of the Inn had pushed him out of the food hall hours ago. “You’d best be gettin’ to bed, Master Pines, you can finish your studying in the morning.” she’d chuckled.  
  
“Thank you, Mrs Wentworth, but really—” he’d said.  
  
“Aww, thanks, but please, call me Susan.” she said, and pushed him out. That was the end of that.  
  
Dipper sighed, scratched his head and picked his pen back up, wanting to make another stab at his problem.  
  
Something fluttered to the floor.  
  
Dipper stopped. He leaned sideways.  
  
A piece of paper, small and innocuous, folded and creased and stained yellow, was lying beside one of the table legs. Dipper frowned and picked it up. He didn’t remember this. He turned it over in his hand, and it came back to him – he’d written this the night of the summoning, straight after walking through the door of his room and right before falling into an exhausted sleep. He’d forgotten all about it, buried it under his ever-growing pile of scraps.  
  
He picked it open, squinting in the dimming light.  
  
_Communi Cipheres Flavum Trinitas_ , it said.  
  
Dipper blinked.  
  
An idea came to him suddenly, and he pushed it away just as quickly.  
  
_No, that’s a bad idea, bad bad bad._ He groaned. _Yeah, sure, he’ll almost definitely know the answer, but then… Then it wouldn’t really be my work, would it?_ He paused. _Wouldn’t it?_  
  
He stood up, clutching the paper.  
  
_Demons always ask for a deal. If he gives me the information, and I give him something in return, it would technically be my own work, because I’d still have to work for it, right?_  
  
He stood in the centre of the room, staring at the floor.  
  
_Yeah, but… What if…? What if he won’t be pleased at the summons? What if his name’s just a thing he says to everyone, assuming they’d be too scared to summon him again? What if he gets angry and… Argh!_ He looked at the paper again, reading the words over in his mind. _Shit… What do I do?_  
  
He didn’t even notice that he had a spare bit of chalk until he was clutching it in his hand.  
  
_Fuck it, _he thought. He was too tired. Right now, exchanging what could possibly be his life for the final ingredient of greek fire seemed completely rational. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and began drawing a simplified summoning circle. _Hopefully this won’t fall apart on me___ , he thought. It was a risk, drawing such a small circle for such a powerful demon, but he didn’t have room for a more detailed one. He’d just have to be lucky.  
  
Once he was done, he grabbed his candles, placing them around the circle and lighting them one by one. The white chalk glowed in the darkened room.  
  
Dipper raised a hand above the circle, closing his eyes and calling as steadily as he could, “Communi Cipheres Flavum Trinitas, I summon thee.”  
  
For a moment, nothing happened.  
  
Dipper wondered if what he read about direct name summonings was wrong.  
  
The candles exploded into life, and Dipper gasped, stepping back and shielding his eyes.  
  
Once again, they were cold and white, licking his skin and lighting up the room.  
  
Spots danced in his vision and made his eyes water. He blinked hard to get them out, shaking his head and stumbling.  
  
A familiar voice sent a thrill down his back.  
  
“Well, well, well, would you look who it is. Nice to see you again, kid.”  
  
The light subsided, and Dipper could look at the new arrival without the risk of permanent blindness.  
  
“B-Bill Cipher?” he said.  
  
“The one and only, kid.” Bill said. “How’s it hanging?”  
  
“W-what?”  
  
Bill ignored him, hands on his hips as he looked around the room. He whistled. “Whoo, kid, this is a dump! No offense.” He looked Dipper in the eye. “What happened to the other place? It’s been like, what, a few days? Did they kick you out?”  
  
“What? No!” Dipper was bewildered. “I left on my own! And what—?A few—? Bill, it’s January! It’s been months!”  
  
Bill blinked. “Really?”  
  
“Y-Yes, but—” Dipper sighed. He was so, so tired. “Look, this isn’t— Can you help me with something?”  
  
Bill cocked his head and shrugged. “Sure, kid, what’d’you need?”  
  
“D’you… do you know… _things?_ ” Dipper groaned internally. He wanted to hit himself.  
  
Bill blinked again.  
  
“I know everything.” he said.  
  
“Oh. Uhm, a-all right, then.” said Dipper. “Uhm…” _If I seem desperate when asking, would he take advantage—_  
  
“Is this about sex, Pine Tree?” Bill said.  
  
Dipper choked. “What? No! No! Wh-where did you even get that?” He frowned. “And, ‘Pine Tree’?”  
  
“You were taking too long. Who knows what goes on in your head? Also,” said Bill, and pointed at Dipper chest. Dipper looked down, and his pendant caught his eye. It was a parting gift from Grunkle Stan, and he always wore it. _Huh_ , he thought, _I guess it could_ … He squinted. Yeah, you could take the two overlapping triangles to be a simplified pine tree.  
  
“What is it that you want to know, kid?” Bill interrupted.  
  
Dipper looked up, thrusting out his hand. “I want to know something about greek fire.”  
  
Bill grinned, grabbing Dipper’s hand. “Sure. What about it?”  
  
“I need to know an ingredient. I—” Dipper faltered. He swallowed. “I will pay you a sum equal in worth to the information given, no more, no less.” His hand gripped a little tighter.  
  
Bill chuckled. “Did you learn that off from a book? Perfect demonic deal vocab right there, kid. Very well.” He shook Dipper’s hand.  
  
“Let’s seal the deal.” said Bill.  
  
Dipper opened his mouth to answer, but Bill gave his hand a sharp pull and Dipper fell forward into the demon’s arms.  
  
Bill’s grin grew predatory.  
  
Dipper managed to choke out a half-whispered, “What—”, before Bill covered Dipper’s lips with his own. Bill swallowed down Dipper’s soft noise of surprise, bending him over in a mock prince-like kiss. Dipper squeaked, blushing to the roots of his hair  
  
Dipper hummed when a familiar sweetness slid down his throat, remembering the warmth it brought the last time he tasted it. He relaxed, boneless in Bill’s arms. Bill moved back, staring at Dipper with a smirk. Dipper licked his lips.  
  
“Jeez, warn a guy next time,” he whispered, before reaching to tangle his hands in Bill’s hair. A spark lit in his stomach, puffing up into a pleasant warmth. He wanted more.  
  
Dipper sighed, pulling the two of them to the floor. Everything was starting to get hazy and soft, and Dipper decided that he liked the feeling. His thoughts started slipping away one by one, leaving his mind blissfully blank. All the worries that plagued him before evaporated like dew drops in the sun.  
  
It was nice.  
  
When Bill let go for a moment to shrug off his shirt, Dipper whined. He blushed at the sound – he’d sounded so wanton, completely unlike the shy almost-virgin he was supposed to be. What was Bill doing to him?  
  
“Shh, just a moment,” Bill whispered, blind to Dipper’s tumultuous thoughts. He kissed him, pooling more of the sweetness into his mouth. “Here I am.” Dipper sighed into the kiss, holding Bill’s face in his hands. What was he worrying about again? He couldn’t remember. The sweetness slid down his throat, warming up his insides.  
  
Bill pushed him gently onto the ground, and Dipper felt his bare back hit the wood. He blinked, pulling away from Bill. He licked his lips and giggled, “D’you just… D’you just magic away my shirt?”  
  
Bill said nothing, choosing to just kiss Dipper instead.  
  
Dipper let the thought go, letting himself drown in the moment. His hand fell away from Bill’s face and hit the floor. More sweetness burst on his tongue. He was getting hot now, feeling energy thrumming under his skin, sticky-sweet and wet, pushing him closer and closer to the demon on top of him.  
  
Without letting the kiss go, Bill tugged on both of Dipper’s hands and pulled them up over his own head, keeping his hands on Dipper’s arms until Dipper wound them around his neck. Dipper moaned, arching up into Bill.  
  
“Here we go, Pine Tree.” Bill whispered.  
  
He hooked his arm around Dipper’s waist and pulled him up, rocking them both back until Dipper was sitting in Bill’s lap. Dipper hummed and wriggled his hips. Bill sighed, his hands clenching at Dipper’s hips, and he buried his nose in the crook of Dipper’s neck.  
  
Dipper remembered something.  
  
It was faint, but it felt important, and it bothered him.  
  
“H-hey… what ‘bout my ingredient?” he said.  
  
Bill hummed a question, still mouthing at Dipper’s pulse.  
  
Dipper moved back to look Bill in the eye, frowning and struggling to get the words out through the haze of want. “Y’know, my fire thing. My _thing._ ”  
  
Bill stopped, chuckled and shook his head. “Nah, kid, my part of the deal first.”  
  
“Nnno, that wasn’t part of the de-Ahnnn—!” Dipper’s protests were lost in a moan when Bill started nipping at his collarbones.  
  
He felt Bill’s smirk of triumph against the skin of his neck, and something hot and angry reared up inside of Dipper.  
  
“You…You’re not cheatin’ me, dammit!” he hissed, and whapped Bill upside the head.  
  
The hit landed with a slap. It wasn’t very strong, but it still jolted Bill’s head a few inches to the side.  
  
Bill stopped. He raised his head up slowly.  
  
Everything was silent.  
  
Bill blinked.  
  
He looked at Dipper. He blinked again. His lip twitched.  
  
Dipper’s face was set in such a childish frown that Bill couldn’t hold it in anymore.  
  
He burst out laughing.  
  
It came howling out of him, and the harder Dipper frowned, the harder Bill laughed. He let go of Dipper to clutch his aching sides, tears springing out the corners of his eyes, and fell back against the wooden floor.  
  
“Oh, sweet Lilith!” Bill roared. “Pine Tree, you— you— you weird human!”  
  
Dipper stared down at this giggling demonic mess, still horny and wanting in Bill’s lap, but now he was angry, too. Bill Cipher was _laughing_ at him. Dipper bristled and tried to climb off.  
  
“Fffuck you, B-Bill friggin’ Cssipher...” he slurred, stumbling up to try and regain his footing on very wobbly legs. That damn demonic aphrodisiac wasn’t helping at all.  
  
“Wh-wait! aHAH—!” Bill yelped through his laughter. “Wait! Pine Tree! buHAha!” He pushed himself up on his knees and grabbed Dipper around the waist, pulling the human against him.  
  
Dipper hissed and tried to turn around, succeeding only in sending them both tumbling to the floor. Bill was still wheezing with laughter, trying to get his breath back. Dipper turned his head and elbowed Bill in the side, trying to get back at the demon on top of him.  
  
“Oof!” Bill coughed. “Ach, kid, watch your elbows!” He stifled another burst of laughter.  
  
“Y-you watch’er damn… hands!” Dipper hissed back, slapping Bill’s arm. Bill laughed at that, letting his hand wander down Dipper’s torso.  
  
“You love my hands.” Bill whispered, his voice sultry and low, palming Dipper’s cock through his pants. Dipper went boneless and moaned, arching into the demon’s touch. The heat in his gut flared, and his anger stuttered in its path.  
  
“You like that?” Bill whispered. His hand pressed harder and Dipper keened, writhing under the demon. His ass ground into Bill’s hips, and Bill’s breath hitched. Dipper could feel the hard line of Bill’s cock even through the fabric of his pants, and it made him feel hot. _I’m the cause of that._ His thoughts were starting to slip away from him, and he did his best to hold on to them.  
  
“What did you – ahnn! – what’d’you mean by ‘weird’?” he managed, pushing himself up onto his elbows.  
  
Bill ground into him, making them both gasp. “You’re unique, kid.” he said at last. “You’re positively _demonic._ ”.  
  
“W-What?” Dipper whispered. Bill was moving at his neck, peppering his back with kisses.  
  
“You stick straight to the deal, kid.” Bill said it like it was something delicious, his voice full of lustful appreciation. “I like that.” His hand tucked itself into Dipper’s trousers, wrapping around Dipper’s cock and giving it a few languorous pumps.  
  
Dipper’s head lolled to the side.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bill stick three fingers into his own mouth and lather them with something mucous and sweet-smelling.  
  
Dipper’s vision was starting to swim and unfocus. Everything felt hot.  
  
He gasped when he felt a finger press into him. It slid in easily, but Dipper tensed at the stretch. Bill kissed the nape of his neck, whispering, “Relax, Pine Tree.”  
  
Dipper obeyed, letting a breath out and loosening his muscles. The finger slid in further.  
  
“That’s it.” Bill murmured. He added a second finger in, pausing to let Dipper adjust. Dipper panted. The pads of Bill’s fingers brushed against his favourite bundle of nerves. It wasn’t worked at enough to give Dipper that rush of pleasure, but he could feel the beginnings of it building up inside of him. He moaned and pushed back against the fingers, trying to get more friction. Bill chuckled. He added a third, and started to move them, curling the tips to brush up against Dipper’s prostate. Dipper shivered. Still not enough, _not enough, more more more_  
  
“You’re good to go, kid.” Bill said, and pulled out. Dipper whined at the sudden emptiness. Bill patted his ass, snickering.  
  
A small part of Dipper wanted to slap Bill again. A bigger part just wanted the demon’s cock inside of him.  
  
Dipper’s thighs spread of their own volition, and he bit his lip in anticipation when Bill lined himself up with Dipper’s entrance. Bill pushed in slowly, and Dipper hissed at the stretch. Bill stilled. Dipper wiggled his ass.  
  
“S’fine,” he slurred, pushing himself down onto Bill’s cock. He heard Bill’s breath hitch.  
  
“C’mon, Bill.” Dipper whined, squirming. Bill said nothing behind him. He just took Dipper’s hips and _pushed._  
  
Dipper sighed, the sound turning into a moan when he felt Bill’s hips hit his backside. He braced himself on his elbows and wiggled his hips. Bill pulled out and slammed back in with a grunt.  
  
“S’like tha.. ah—!” Dipper choked on his keen when Bill slammed into him again, grazing his prostate. Dipper hissed. Bill’s grip tightened on his hips and he picked up the pace, thrusting into Dipper with a renewed purpose. Dipper heard Bill grunt over the roaring of blood in his own ears. His eyes focused on nothing, sliding blindly passed the scattered papers on the floor, landing on the white chalk of the summoning circle before flitting off again. Dipper’s elbows and knees where covered in chalk dust by now, and they’d be splintered and sore when they finished, but Dipper didn’t care.  
  
A particularly perfect thrust made Dipper groan and jolt his own hips back onto Bill’s cock. Bill choked out a laugh in between his pants. “Just like that, kid.” he hissed, gripping Dipper’s hips tight enough to leave bruises.  
  
The pace picked up, the two of them moving in perfect tandem, desperately seeking their own pleasures. Dipper’s veins were burning with heated blood, hormones and adrenalin and aphrodisiac all swirling together to form a delicious cocktail of pure wanton need. Bill could _smell_ it on him. He bent down, breath ghosting over the nape of Dipper’s neck. Bill’s mouth watered. He lowered his head, letting his teeth scrape the sensitive skin. Dipper moaned and arched into it, his hips stuttering in their pace.  
  
“B-Bill!” he cried.  
  
Bill couldn’t hold back anymore. He slammed into Dipper, his teeth breaking the skin of Dipper’s shoulder at the same time. Dipper screamed, his nails scraping against the floor, leaving deep gouges in the soft wood. Sweet blood flooded into Bill’s mouth, and he lapped it up, laving Dipper’s shoulder with kisses.  
  
Dipper’s mind was an endless stream of yes please yes more more more. He stretched his neck out to give Bill more access, drowning in the sharp contrast of pain and pleasure. The mix made his toes curl and his heart beat faster. He pushed back against Bill, moaning all the while. Bill let go of Dipper’s shoulder, letting his mouth trail down Dipper’s spine, sucking on each vertebrae.  
  
Pleasure started coiling up tight in Dipper’s gut. He raised his head, panting out, “B-bill, I’m gonna—”  
  
“I know.” said Bill, gripping Dipper’s hips and pounding into him.  
  
His hand wound around Dipper’s front and grasped his cock. Dipper choked on a moan and his hips stuttered, trapped between the hand at his front and the demon at his back. The sensations made his head spin.  
  
Bill gave Dipper a few strokes, and the coil in Dipper’s gut snapped.  
  
He screamed, arching up and spilling himself on the floor, his eyes shut against the blinding white. He felt Bill’s hips stutter pull out. Strings of hot cum splashed against Dipper’s back, and he heard Bill groan, long and loud.

Their pants were the loudest things in the room.  
  
Dipper stared blindly at the floor, still on his hands and knees. He didn’t, _couldn’t_ move. He heard Bill panting behind him, staying completely still.  
  
The cum on his back was starting to cool, and Dipper became aware of the cold breeze wandering in the room. He shivered.  
  
Bill was once again the first one to speak. “It’s sulfur.”  
  
Dipper’s exhausted brain couldn’t for the life of it understand why Bill had said that. “What?” said Dipper. His voice was hoarse.  
  
He turned his head to face the demon.  
  
Bill was glowing and glorious in the dull light of the moon. His golden hair looked bleached and bled dry, framing his face in a halo. Hs body moved with every deep breath that he took, his chest expanding and shoulders shifting up. The action was lithe and graceful and so simply, confusingly human that Dipper struggled to remember that Bill was a demon.  
  
“The fire.” said Bill. Dipper’s thoughts stuttered to a pause.  
  
“Huh?” said Dipper.  
  
Bill frowned, leaning forward and grabbing Dipper’s face in his hands. “Shit, did I give you too much?” said Bill, looking Dipper in the eyes, flitting between one pupil and the other.  
  
Dipper blinked. His eyes were struggling to stay open.  
  
Every bit of exhaustion, every tiny bit of tiredness he felt before Bill’s arrival seemed to crash into him at once. Dipper’s knees wobbled and buckled, the muscles burning in an effort to hold him up.  
  
Bill’s eyes widened when he saw this. His grip on Dipper’s face tightened.  
  
“Shit, kid!” he hissed, shaking Dipper. “Kid, look at me! Look at me! Shit!”  
  
Dipper batted at Bill’s hands, mumbling, “Stop it, Bill, m’fine. I’m just tired, s’all.”  
  
Bill sighed in relief, letting go of Dipper’s face. Dipper let himself crumple down to the floor, landing with a soft, “Oof!”. His eyes drifted shut.  
  
He heard Bill rise and grab something. It crinkled in Bill’s hand.  
  
Sleep was pulling Dipper under, lulling him even in the chill of the room. Dipper cracked his eyes open, looking up to see Bill writing something down. Bill must’ve noticed Dipper’s gaze, because he turned around and grinned.  
  
“Don’t worry, Pine Tree. I honour my deals.”  
  
Dipper frowned. _What?_  
  
He couldn’t remember.  
  
Too tired.  
  
Sleep called to him, luring him into its quiet embrace.  
  
He was so, so tired.  
  
In the next moment, he was out like a light. 

The rapping on his door woke him up.  
  
Dipper shot up, eyes wide.  
  
The voice came again. “Master Pines, is everything okay?”  
  
Mrs Wentworth. Susan. Right.  
  
He cleared his throat and said as best as he could, “Yes! I’m fine. Totally fine. Why, is something wrong?” _You’re babbling, Dipper, you’re babbling._  
  
Susan’s voice came through the door, “Well, it’s way past noon, so I was just wondering if you were sick again.”  
  
“No, I’m completely fine! Everything’s fine!” said Dipper.  
  
Susan didn’t sound convinced. “Well, okay then.” She added as an afterthought. “Lunch is being served in an hour, if you’re hungry.”  
  
Dipper called back, “That sounds lovely, thank you, Mrs Wentworth - _Susan_ \- uhm.”  
  
Susan stood silent for a few moments, and then Dipper heard her leave. When the last of her footsteps sounded down the staircase, he let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.  
  
_Shit._ he thought.  
  
He looked around the room.  
  
It was clean. Dipper blinked. That was new.  
  
Pages no lingered littered the floor and hid in every dark corner of the room. His books were stacked neatly on his table, building little pyramids with the largest tomes on the bottom and the smallest on the top. His quill lay beside a stoppered ink bottle.  
  
The summoning circle was gone, the floor as bare as if it had never been there in the first place. There weren’t any gouge marks or scratches left either. In fact, it looked positively new, rid of dust bunnies and pencil shavings.  
  
_Magic._ thought Dipper. Nothing else could explain it. Unless, of course, Bill had spent the majority of the other night scrubbing Dipper’s floors, and that was impossible.  
  
Dipper moved his quilt aside and got out of bed.  
  
Wait.  
  
Bed? _Did I fall asleep here…?_ He couldn’t remember.  
  
He looked down at himself, noting the presence of his sleepwear bottoms. Moreover, he didn’t see any bruises, or scratches, or scrapes. He was sure he should have had them – he could vaguely remember being on his hands and knees and bracing against the rough wood of the floor. He couldn’t remember much else.  
  
He wandered over to his desk, and snorted at what he saw. Bill had even sorted out his papers. They were stacked to the side, ordered and sorted by purpose and content. One sheet was lying in the centre of the table. Dipper picked it up.  
  
There were nine neat words written on it in an elegant script – the ingredients for greek fire, eight of them being the ones Dipper already knew. He squinted and read the last one. _Sulfur._  
  
Beside it, Bill had drawn a triangle with an eye.  
  
Dipper frowned. He turned the page over. Nothing.  
  
He huffed, both impressed and annoyed at the same time. _Sticking straight to the deal,_ he thought. 

Sure, Bill had given him the ingredients.  
  
The bastard didn’t, however, give him the required amounts. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper is a massive nerd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haaaaaaaahahaha this chapter is six thousand words of plot hahaahahahahahaha  
> i have exams next week but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> i had so much trouble with dipper's characterisation cause he was gonna be a Blushign Virgin(TM) at first but like??? no???? so i rewrote this like 3 times lol

“There!” said Dipper, slamming the vial onto the table. There was a manic gleam in his eye.

After Bill’s visit, Dipper had gotten to work.  
  
Lazy Susan threatened to throw him out when the smell of sulfur started seeping through the floorboards and into lower floors. Smoke was seen continuously coming out through his windows, in various shades of blue, black and the occasional acid green. Explosions would be heard with such regularity that most citizens of the Falls learned to ignore them, and just shake their heads and go, “It’s that Pines again.”  
  
Dipper was sure that his eyebrows would never grow back the same, and neither would the hair on his arms, but he was completely okay with it. The Brotherhood was worth it, _no_ , unlimited access to over four hundred years of deals, expeditions and _knowledge_ was worth it.  
  
After two months of mixing and mingling and mopping up strange liquids, after two months of putting together those nine precious elements in every single combination conceivable by the human mind, Dipper had done it.

  
  


The voice sniffed from the dais, “And what’s this?”  
  
Wendy handed him a bowl of water, and Dipper showed it to the dais. He grinned, all teeth, “Water.” He picked up the vial. “Chemical.”  
  
With a deftness that came from practice, he uncorked the vial and poured in the colourless liquid. “Chemical in water.”  
  
He struck a match, watching the small flame with more than a little bit of madness. “And now,” he said. “The _piece de resistance._ ”  
  
“Get on with it, child.” huffed the voice.  
  
Dipper grinned.  
  
He let the match fall, his eyes never leaving the darkened dais.  
  
The water erupted, green flames shooting up and licking the air. Behind him, Wendy and Soos gasped. The flame changed colour, going from acid to blue and then red. It shrunk again, falling back towards the water. No hiss came.  
  
It hadn’t extinguished.  
  
Dipper picked up the bowl, tilting it to show the fire.  
  
A fire that fed off water.  
  
The room was silent.  
  
Dipper held his breath.  
  
The voice sounded reverent. “Greek fire.” it whispered.  
  
“Yes,” said Dipper.  
  
“B-but… how?” said the voice. “What did you use?”  
  
“No.”  
  
The voice hissed, “I beg your pardon?”  
  
Dipper smiled, the grimace not reaching his eyes. “You can beg all you want, but I’m still not gonna give you the formula.”  
  
“Explain.” the voice ordered.  
  
“Greek Fire has been used to burn armadas, sack cities and kill hundreds of innocent people. There’s no guarantee that it won’t be used in the same way again.” said Dipper. “It’s too dangerous to leave lying around. So - no, I will not give you its formula.”  
  
From the sidelines, Wendy hissed under her breath, “Dipper, what are you doing—”  
  
The voice broke into a booming laugh.  
  
“Very well done, Young Pines.” it said. The tone had changed – it was impressed now. “Both a drive and an intelligence.” It explained, “Getting the information, hard as it was in this case, is what anyone could do. Knowing how to use it for the greater good, however, is the true show of intelligence.” It chuckled. “Very well, Pines, if you wish to be the keeper of Greek Fire, you have earned that honour.”  
  
Dipper didn’t let his relief show. At least he hadn’t miscalculated. Talking back, that was a risk, and he knew it – his shirt was sticking to his back with anxious sweat. But, then again, that could also be the insomnia.  
  
“Kneel, Able Pines.” instructed the voice. Dipper let his knees drop.  
  
“Able Pines,” said the voice. “You are hereby accepted into the Brotherhood of the Blind Eye. You are hitherto out Brother in every single way but in anointment, and you are welcome into our House and Home whenever you may wish for sanctuary.”  
  
The breath stopped in Dipper’s lungs. His hand clenched into a fist.  
  
_This is it._ he thought. _This is the moment I’ve been waiting for._ He wondered if he should feel elated, or even slightly happy, because now all he could feel was shock. He couldn’t believe it. He’d worked and researched and toiled for what was nearly two years, and here it was.  
  
He was a Brother.  
  
Only one thing bothered him – “Wait… anointment?”  
  
The voice hummed. “Yes, Able Pines. Every new member must be anointed and claimed by our House’s most noble patron, our Lord Naberus.” If the voice had a head, it would’ve shrugged. “However, that can only happen during the Equinox, when the powers of the day are equal to that of night.” Dipper frowned. The voice continued. “You have just missed the Vernal Equinox in March, and so the Autumnal Equinox in September is our next opportunity.”  
  
Dipper sighed, “Ah… yes, I understand, thank you.”  
  
“You may rise, Brother Pines.” the voice reminded him. Dipper hurried to stand.  
  
He frowned and raised his head to look up at the dais. “But… what shall I do until then?” he said. September was months away.  
  
“Whatever you chose to do, Brother Pines. Our halls our open to you.” said the voice.  
  
“Right…” said Dipper. He bit him lip, thinking. Finally, he said, “Could I take my leave? I want to go back home and visit my family. I will be back in the autumn.”  
  
“Very well,” said the voice. “Do as you wish.”  
  
“Thank you.” Dipper bowed and turned to walk away.  
  
The voice called, “Remember, Brother Pines, do not be late. Demons are not patient creatures.”  
  
Dipper turned around and nodded.

Outside of the Grandmaster’s chambers, Soos and Wendy broke out into excited whispers. Wendy slapped him on the back, sending Dipper stumbling.  
  
“Congrats, Dipper! You made it!” she laughed. “What’d’I tell you?”  
  
“Yeah, Dipper,” said Soos. “Congratulations. You’re one of us now!”  
  
Dipper smiled, “Thanks, guys. Glad to be finally here.”  
  
“So when are you going?” said Wendy.  
  
Dipper bit his lip. “Today, probably.” At Wendy’s frown, he explained. “I haven’t seen my sister and Grunkle in almost two years, and it’s a decent journey back. Besides,” he said, looking down. “My ‘great quest’ is finished now. I’ve got nothing to do.”  
  
“That’s not true,” said Wendy. “There’s plenty of stuff.”  
  
“Yeah, Dipper,” said Soos. “You haven’t seen our library yet. It’s huge! So much stuff to learn there, it’s so cool.” He nodded to himself as he was saying it.  
  
Dipper shook his head, pulling on his coat. “Thank you, but I really miss my family.” He huffed out a laugh. “Besides, the library’s been here four hundred years. I doubt it’s going anywhere.”  
  
Wendy snorted, “You got that right.” She took out a pocket watch, flipping it open. “Speaking about the library… Soos, we gotta go. We’re helping Robbie with the manuscript sorting.”  
  
Soos groaned, and Wendy patted him on the arm with an equally-suffering understanding. She looked at Dipper. “You’ll be alright getting out, yeah?” she said.  
  
Dipper nodded, “Yeah, I remember where the exit is.”  
  
She grinned and winked. “Well, then, see ya!” she said, turning around and walking down the hallway.  
  
“Wait!” called Dipper. “How do I get down to the village?”  
  
“Walk straight until you see a tall oak with an eye drawn on it, then turn right and keep going straight.” she said without turning back, waving her hand.  
  
Dipper waved back half-heartedly. “Thanks!” He turned to leave, buttoning up his coat and pulling on his hat.  
  
He was far away when he heard Wendy call out, “And don’t forget to write!”  
  
Dipper smiled to himself, and started down the hall.

Two weeks later, Dipper was hiking up a familiar trail.  
  
His fingers brushed through well-known ferns, the rustle of leaves sounding like homecoming trumpets. He lost himself to the quiet ambience of the forest, his bags feeling lighter with every step.  
  
He didn’t know he would miss it all so much. Every patch of flowers, the trees, the occasional deer that would cross his path – things that brought up memories of his idyllic childhood. Just him, Mabel, Grunkle Stan, and their small green world.  
  
The sun had just passed its highest point when he spotted white smoke rising up from the treetops. He grinned and picked up his pace, his mind full of the words he was going to say when he saw them. It wouldn’t be a surprise – he’d sent a letter shortly before leaving the Falls, handing it to Lazy Susan to be posted whenever possible, so it should’ve reached the Shack by now.  
  
His home came into view, the trees opening up around it like flower petals. They’d called it the Shack ever since they were thirteen, after spending one year listening to Grunkle Stan rant about the costs of upkeeping his little cottage in the woods with ‘two damn kids running about’. The costs weren’t that high, but their Grunkle was always a miser, so their home was always kind-of cracked and crumbling and dusty, but they loved it nonetheless. With Mabel’s creative touches and Dipper’s aversion to messes, it started to look like a proper home soon too.  
  
He started running without being aware of it, his feet speeding up until they were thundering the well-worn path to the front porch.  
  
“Grunkle Stan!” he shouted. “Grunkle Stan, open up!”  
  
The wind rushed past his ears, but he heard the door creak open anyway. Dipper was close enough to see the warm worn wood.  
  
“Who’s it? Who’s there?” said Grunkle Stan, squinting against the sun.  
  
With a few long steps, Dipper launched himself up the porch steps and into his Grunkle’s arms. Stan shouted in surprise, arms coming around Dipper’s shoulders to stop them from falling over. His Grunkle hadn’t changed at all, still all unkempt shirts and greying hair. His eyes, though, did look a little older, but in all he was still the same Grunkle Dipper left behind two years ago.  
  
A loud “Oof!” whooshed out of Stan, followed by an incredulous, “Dipper?”  
  
Dipper only laughed, hugging his Grunkle tighter.  
  
Stan grinned, slapping Dipper on the back. “Dipper! Why, we weren’t expecting ya ‘till tomorrow!” Stan turned his head and shouted into the house. “Hey, Mabel! Come see who it is!”  
  
Dipper’s head lifted in time to catch the patter of feet down the stairs. Mabel flew into view, her hair in wild disarray. Dipper blinked and paused, drinking in the sight of his twin.  
  
She’d grown, just as he had, her hair getting longer and thicker until it was falling in waves down her shoulders. She didn’t tie it up, she never did, ever since they were kids. Two years had done a lot to her – you wouldn’t think the transition from eighteen to twenty would change a person, but Dipper couldn’t help but notice how Mabel seemed much more whole now. There was a new confidence in the way she held her head, a certain grace in her steps.  
  
Of course, that grace was hard to see when she was thundering down the stairs two steps at a time.  
  
“DIPPER!” she yelled, launching herself at her brother. Dipper had just enough time to shout out a, “Mabel, wait—!” before he was bowled over, landing flat on his arse.  
Mabel squeezed his neck tight, squealing loud into his ears.  
  
“M-Mabel… Mabel!” Dipper choked out, slapping her on her back. “Mabel, you’re killing me Mabel please—!”  
  
She let go, and Dipper sucked in a deep breath. He managed to inhale a whole load of spit too, and his chest caved in in deep coughs.  
  
Mabel slapped him on his back to get it out, chattering, “Dipper! Dipper, oh my God, we thought you’d be here tomorrow! This is so great! But also terrible! So terrible! Dipper, I was gonna make a cake and cookies and – pie! Apple pie! – but I didn’t make it today cause I wanted it to be fresh for tomorrow and Dipper, really, what a surprise! I couldn’t make the pie though—”  
  
“Mabel,” said Dipper, when he didn’t think he was in danger of suffocating anymore. He looked at his twin kindly. “Mabel, you’re babbling.”  
  
Mabel stopped, slapping her hands to her face.  
  
She stared at him, eyes darting about to catch everything new about him.  
  
Then she said, “I missed you, Dip-dop.”  
  
Dipper hugged her again, chuckling. “Missed you too, Mabel.” He patted her on the back. Then he frowned. “Wait, apple pie? Mabel, you can’t cook…”  
  
Mabel snorted and broke into a laugh. “I would’ve tried.”  
  
Stan piped up from the back, “She said she’d pay for any fire damage, so, eh.” He was watching them both with a faint smile, arms folded on his chest.  
  
Dipper sent him an incredulous frown, “Grunkle Stan! Remember the last time?”  
  
“Aw, it wasn’t that bad…” said Mabel, hiding her hands in the sleeves of her cardigan.  
  
“Mabel, you set fire to the kitchen! It took three hours to put it out!” Dipper said.  
  
Mabel grinned in apology, shrugging, “My bad.”  
  
Dipper frowned and continued staring.  
  
A smile tugged at his lips.  
  
He snorted into his hand, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.  
  
At last, he said, “Oh, I missed this.”

He settled back into his old room.  
  
The maps and charts were still all there, their tattered yellowed corners peeling off the walls. All of his books, few of them as there were, sat neatly on his shelf. His tools, toys and little mementos from over the years decorated the nooks and crannies of the room. The faded carpet sat in the centre, leading up to the darkening triangular window.  
  
The initials he and Mabel carved into his bed when they were fifteen were faded and smooth, but he could still see them. He ran his thumb over them, smiling at the memory.  
  
“You doing okay?”  
  
Dipper turned around to face the voice. Mabel stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame.  
  
Dipper smiled and gave a thumbs-up.  
  
“It’s all the same, just like you left it.” said Mabel.  
  
“Yeah,” Dipper nodded. “Its… nice. Nostalgic, kind-of.”  
  
Mabel giggled, motioning to the bed. “Still think you can fit in that?”  
  
Dipper huffed, patting the duvet fondly. “I can try.”  
  
“We can always build you a new one, bro-bro.” Mabel grinned. She knocked on the wall beside her. “Remember, knock if you need me.” She disappeared back into the hallway.  
  
Dipper stared at the back wall of the room, at the place where she knocked. He spaced out, the excitement of the day catching up to him. It was late now, and the light of his oil lamp made his eyes want to glue shut.  
  
Mabel popped back in, startling him out of his stupor.  
  
“Oh, I forgot!” she said, throwing him a thick parcel. “Here. Found it in one of Grunkle’s old chests.” She smiled cheekily. “Thought you’d like it.” Then she vanished again.  
Dipper stared at the parcel.  
  
It was heavy and big, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. It snapped easily under his fingers, the paper crinkling as he unwrapped it.  
  
A wine-coloured leather cover stared back at him. Its golden buckles glinted in the lamplight, his eyes catching on the large six-fingered hand inlay. A matte number three was painted on it.  
  
He turned it over.  
  
It was a book - old, very old, judging by the stained paper and dog-eared corners of the cover. Slips of paper poked out of it at random intervals, and some looked burnt, or smeared, or… bitten?  
  
He unclasped it, watching as it fell open in his lap.  
  
His eyes stuck on the first thing he saw.  
  
_The Gremgoblin,_ he read.  
  
Looks like he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight after all.

He was _obsessed._  
  
Every day, he would rise and go into the forest, hunting for the creatures of the Journal.  
  
Every night, he would come back with a new page filled out, some new knowledge gained. It didn’t matter if it was something small - even tracing the prints of these creatures taught him something new. And when he actually found one…  
  
He wouldn’t sleep for days.  
  
Mabel would get increasingly worried looks on her face, wringing her hands and wearing holes in her cardigans. “You’re supposed to be resting, Dipper!” she would say, and he would just nod and reply, “Once I’m done, once I’m done I’ll rest.”  
  
Eventually, she snapped.  
  
The bag of glow-in-the-dark snails must’ve been the last straw, because she threw them out the door the second she saw the shiny blue mucus seeping through the floorboards, screaming, “That’s it! No more weirdness inside the house!”  
  
Dipper yelled and dove to catch them, yelping, “W-wait, what?”  
  
Mabel pointed at the glowing slime, fuming, “Look at this! This is a mess! Why does this always happen when you’re researching?”  
  
Dipper floundered under the bag of snails. “What? What’d’you mean?”  
  
“You forget to eat! To sleep!” hissed Mabel. “Your room is a disaster! You’re usually completely banal about messes, but when you’re researching, you _lose it!_ ”  
“Mabel, please.” Dipper pleaded, pulling out his best puppy eyes. The slime dripped down his face. “Just let me keep the snails.”  
  
Mabel shook her head, brow furrowing in determination. “No, Dipper. No more weirdness inside the house.” She waved her hand in the direction of the woods. “You can keep doing whatever it is you do out in the woods, but nothing weird gets in the house.”  
  
She shut the door, and that was that.

One month flew by without him even noticing.  
  
After Mabel’s intervention, he’d started coming back earlier and taking better care of himself. His room returned to its previous neat state, and he’d even managed to scrub the slime stains out of his carpet. It still glowed a little, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.  
  
He was still obsessed with finding out more about the Journal, but all that frantic energy was gone. He found himself spending less time in the woods, and more with the Journal itself. He’d noticed a string of code running throughout the whole book, and decoding it was proving to be a challenge.  
  
He’d worked out the simple codes first – three letters back, Ceasar cipher, easy-peasy. He didn’t think that that would be it, and he was right.  
  
The code turned out to be another code, and that second layer took him a little longer to crack. It was all in riddles, old ones and new ones and ones in between. Some were easy, ones that he remembered doing as a kid, and the others required a bit of background reading to crack. His favourite one was about two girls drinking the same drink, but one drank four quickly and the other drank one slowly. The one that drank only one died, and then one that drank four lived. He’d thought it was a slow-acting, self-countering poison, but, once again, the simplest answer turned out to be the correct one.  
  
He was sitting in his room, staring at a wall and thinking about the riddle when Stan came up with an ice-cube in his hands. “Look at what I found in one of my bottles,” he’d said, and Dipper gasped out loud.  
  
_Ice._ He’d heard of rich folk up north putting ice-cubes in their drinks during the summer, and the riddle cracked itself open.  
  
The fourth layer of code was monoalphabetic cipher, the fifth layer was steganography, and both took the better part of a month to crack, but by then Dipper was in the full swing of it, and the code-breaking knowledge gained as a curious young child came back to him easily.  
  
The sixth layer of code, now that was a problem.  
  
Dipper had tried every single code that he knew of, and nothing produced viable results.  
  
Scrambling the letters gave back random letters. Rewriting them through monoalphabetic cipher didn’t form any words he knew of.  
  
The problem with this code was that it looked like a language – the syllables were pronounceable, the words forming long, melodic sentences in a tongue that sounded both familiar and strange.  
  
Dipper had wrecked his head for days with it, muttering the words out loud for hours on end until concerned looks from both Mabel and Grunkle Stan made him stop. He found himself mumbling it in his sleep, waking up in the middle of the night with strings of flowing code on his tongue.  
  
Mabel found him one day, when he was sitting out back and staring blindly at the setting sun.  
  
“Hey, Dip-dop,” she said. He mumbled something in reply, his mind far away. She placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “You know, you could always ask for help.”  
  
A flash of inspiration struck him.  
  
_Help._  
  
He turned around in a flurry, startling her. He grabbed her hand and grinned, “Oh my God! Mabel! Thank you!”  
  
With that, he jumped out of his seat and raced inside. Mabel stared after him, waving faintly. “You’re welcome…”  
  
Dipper didn’t hear her, too engrossed in his own plans.  
  
Sure, Mabel probably meant sending a letter to “this mysterious Brotherhood I keep hearing about”, and Dipper wasn’t going to contradict her there.  
  
He was technically asking someone somewhat related to the Brotherhood.  
  
Mabel never said to ask someone _human_.

_“Communi Cipheres Flavum Trinitas.”_  
  
The flash of light made him flinch, but he was getting better at handling it. It shone through the closed curtains in his room, but he didn’t think anyone was out in the night woods to see it.  
  
“Well, well, well—!”  
  
Dipper slammed his hands onto Bill’s mouth, silencing him.  
  
“Shh!” Dipper hissed, motioning to the back wall. “Family sleeping.” Bill’s eyes widened in understanding.  
  
Both of them froze when a confused voice came through the wall. “Dipper…? You up? It’s the middle of the night…”  
  
Dipper floundered for an explanation, stammering out, “Uh… Yeah, sorry, Mabel! I, uh, need to go to the bathroom?”  
  
Mabel hummed, “Okay, Dip-dop… g’night…”  
  
“Night!” Dipper cursed himself for sounding so strung-up.  
  
He stared at the wall, counting the beats of silence. When Mabel’s voice didn’t come again, he let out a breath.  
  
He turned to Bill and whispered, “Can you cast a silencing spell?”  
  
Bill waved a hand, and Dipper didn’t feel anything happen. He whispered, “Did it work?”  
  
Bill nodded, and Dipper let his hands fall.  
  
“Good…” said Dipper. “So, Bill, I was wondering…”  
  
Bill wasn’t listening, his eyes wandering around Dipper’s room.  
  
“Nice place, kid.” he said at last. “Different?”  
  
Dipper scratched his head, “Uh, yeah. It’s, um, we’re at my childhood home.”  
  
“Aww…” Bill grinned. “Baby Pine Tree. Cute.”  
  
Dipper waved his hand as if to dispel distracting thoughts. “Hey, uh, I actually need something from you.”  
  
“As usual.” Bill turned back to Dipper, hands behind his back. He inclined his head, “What can I do for you this time?”  
  
“I need some help with... a code, I guess.”  
  
“You guess?” Bill raised an eyebrow.  
  
Dipper explained, “It’s more like a language. Which is why I need your help, actually.”  
  
Bill hummed. “Very well. Let me see it.”  
  
Dipper motioned for him to stay where he was, and turned around to grab the Journal. His hands flipped through the pages, muscle memory getting him to the place he needed. He showed it to Bill, pointing at the code. “Here, look.” he said. “They’re like words, almost. I think they might mean something—”  
  
Bill grabbed Dipper’s wrists, stopping him in his tracks. Dipper looked up and met Bill’s eyes, feeling his lungs screech to a halt at the intensity of Bill’s gaze.  
  
Bill leaned in, breath ghosting over Dipper’s face. “And what do I get out of this, hmm?” he whispered.  
  
Dipper gulped, his heart beginning to race. He stammered, “W-well, uh, I will… I will pay a price equal in worth to—”  
  
“So, just the regular, yeah?” Bill grinned. “You sure give a generous offer, kid.”  
  
He leaned in, head tilting.  
  
Dipper slapped a hand over Bill’s mouth, leaning away. “No!” At Bill’s irritated frown, Dipper said, “My part of the deal first this time.”  
  
Bill sighed theatrically, taking the Journal out of Dipper’s hands. He sat down on the edge of Dipper’s bed and stared at the pages. Dipper thought he heard Bill whisper, “Bureaucrat.” Dipper sniffed.  
  
Bill stopped mumbling and beckoned him closer, pointing to a particular passage. “S’ this it?”  
  
Dipper nodded. “Yeah.”  
  
Bill frowned and leaned in closer, eyes darting around the page. He grinned. “Okay!”  
  
“What?” said Dipper.  
  
“Well, it took me a while, what with your weird human letters,” said Bill. “But I got it.” He pointed at one of the sentences, reading it out loud. His voice deepened when he said it, gaining a creepy, resonant quality, the strange syllables blurring into each other. Then, he said, “It’s _daemonic_. Demon tongue.”  
  
Dipper frowned, leaning over Bill’s shoulder to get a better view. “Daemonic?”  
  
“Yep,” said Bill. “I supposed it’s possible for a human to guess the meaning of some words it if they hear them often enough, but here it isn’t the case.” He pointed at a word. “See this? The pronunciation of this word is inaudible to human ears, but the author used it perfectly.”  
  
Dipper’s eyes widened, “So, wait, you’re saying the author was fluent in daemonic?”  
  
“I’m saying that some demon taught it to them, yes.” Bill clarified.  
  
Dipper shook him, chattering, “Wait, so does that mean you could teach it to me, too?” His eyes were stuck to the page, widening with excitement.  
  
Bill grinned, turning around. Dipper was leaning so far in that his head was right next to Bill’s. Bill smirked, lowering his voice, “I could. Right now, if you wish.”  
  
Dipper was still oblivious, eyes lit up. “Really? Okay, let’s do it now then—”  
  
His mouth was still open on his last words when Bill leaned in and captured Dipper’s lips, swallowing his noise of surprise.  
  
Bill grabbed Dipper’s face and twisted around to face him, bracketing Dipper’s hips with his thighs. He licked into Dipper’s mouth, pulling Dipper down until Dipper was kneeling on the floor. Dipper whined into the kiss, hands coming up to hold on to Bill’s arms, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Spit dribbled down his chin.  
  
Dipper tried to pull away, but Bill pulled him back, kissing him with a new vigour.  
  
_I can’t breathe_ , thought Dipper, hands pushing weakly against Bill’s chest.  
  
Bill bit his lip, making Dipper gasp. He could feel Bill smirk against him, whining as Bill pulled on his hair.  
  
Finally, Bill let go, letting Dipper lean back and suck in lungfuls of air.  
  
Dipper coughed, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. “W-what was that for?” he hissed.  
  
Bill grinned and leaned in to place a gentle peck on the corner of Dipper’s mouth. “What do you use to speak, Dipper?” he said instead.  
  
Dipper frowned, and Bill handed him the opened Journal. Dipper’s eyes dropped down.  
  
He gasped.  
  
The words made sense.  
  
His eyes ran over them, absorbing the sentences, the syllables forming ideas in his head. He clutched the Journal in both hands, flipping through the pages, reading everything in his sight. Here and there, things started clicking into place. The small little mysteries he didn’t stop to consider for long, unanswered questions that he couldn’t solve on his own, they were all clear and simple and just _there._ Even the innocent squiggles in the page corners that he thought were just jitters of the pen, they too turned out to be daemonic.  
  
Bill must’ve seen him pause to look at them, because he said, “That’s daemonic alphabet. You can understand that too, now.”  
  
“B-but… how?”  
  
Bill grinned, waving his fingers. “Magic.”  
  
Dipper looked back at the Journal, completely absorbed in this whole new world. He’d leave the wonders of magical language transfer for another day. Now, he was too busy having his mind blown by the Journal’s hidden knowledge.  
  
When Bill started running kisses up his neck, Dipper waved him away. “Just give me a moment, Bill.”  
  
Bill sighed, exasperated. “Jeez, Pine Tree, if I knew you’d get so transfixed, I woulda kissed you after I fucked you.”  
  
Dipper blushed, fixing his eyes firmly on the page in front of him. “You wouldn’t do that.” he said at last. “Demons respect deals.” His eyes hadn’t left the Journal.  
Bill hummed, “That wouldn’t be disrespect, though, would it? You’d still get your kiss.”  
  
Dipper muttered something unintelligible, and kept reading.  
  
Bill trailed an absent-minded hand over his neck, making Dipper shiver. The trail turned into gentle scratches at the back of his neck. Dipper tried to concentrate on the Journal.  
  
“You trynna cheat me out of my part of the deal, kid?” Bill whispered.  
  
Dipper’s head shot up. “What? No.” He pleaded, “Just give me a few more minutes, I’m almost done.”  
  
Bill sniffed and stood up, sighing.  
  
He took and few steps out and started wandering about the room, eyes roaming across the wooden walls and over all the little trinkets.  
  
A pleasant silence filled the room, broken up by the soft shuffling of pages and Bill’s light footsteps.  
  
He was absorbing everything he saw, filing it away for future use. Here was an old book on animals, sparsely illustrated in ink. Cheap, but probably the best a simple woodsman could afford for his beloved grandnephew. There, an anatomy journal, a well-made copy of a book Bill recognised. Expensive, if Dipper were ever to sell his work – his drawings were quite good, perfect copies of the originals. There was information hiding in the corners, in the dusty nooks of the room, the history of the young man sitting on his bed in the corner. Bill could see it all, but the one thing he truly wanted to know was still a mystery to him.  
  
Dipper snapped the Journal shut, and Bill turned at the sound. The Journal landed with a soft thump on the writing desk by the bed, and Dipper started pulling off his boots. He stood up, fingers hooking at the hem of his shirt and pulling it off of his head in one smooth motion.  
  
Bill stood still, staring at the display.  
  
Dipper’s fingers were working on his belt when he glanced up. “Um… you coming?”  
  
Bill cocked his head. His face split in a slow grin.  
  
He’ll find out Dipper’s secrets some other time.  
  
Dipper unclasped his belt and pulled it through the loops, unbuttoning his trousers with deft fingers. Bill walked up to him, hands coming up to run over Dipper’s sides. Dipper froze at the touch, his hands hesitating in their movements.  
  
Bill hummed, “Something wrong?” His eyes never left Dipper’s chest, cataloguing the new scars there. Burns, scratches, souvenirs he must’ve gotten figuring out the components of Greek Fire. Some part of Bill felt guilty about leaving the kid bare like that, but he’d wanted to see what Dipper would do.  
  
Dipper shook his head, pulling down his pants, and said nothing.  
  
Then he stood bare in front of Bill, unsure.  
  
Bill pushed him back onto the bed, gently. Dipper stared up at him. Bill licked his lips.  
  
Bill snapped his fingers, and his clothes slid away from him like shadows. His entire appearance was all optical illusions anyway, his true form hiding in the little cracks of this universe all along. He watched as Dipper’s eyes widened.  
  
He sunk down beside him, taking Dipper’s chin and angling it. He leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to Dipper’s lips, a complete contrast to his previous lasciviousness. Dipper followed him, his eyes fluttering shut.  
  
Dipper could taste sweetness, and he relished it, chasing that same blissful emptiness he felt the other two times. In truth, he didn’t want to think – thinking would overcomplicate this, would make him overthink and overfeel and be shy and awkward and anxious when there wasn’t even any reason for him to be. He clamped down on any shred of nervousness he felt, berating himself.  
  
_I’ve done this before, damn it._  
  
The heat in his stomach flared, that welcoming warmth, and Dipper relaxed.  
  
Then it went cold.  
  
_What?_  
  
Dipper frowned, eyes shut tight. His tongue flicker out, and he pressed forward, opening his mouth to let Bill in. Bill chuckled and obliged, thinking Dipper was being enthusiastic.  
  
When Dipper tasted sweetness and felt none of the expected heat, he started panicking. What was happening? His hands clenched at Bill’s shoulders, and he kissed harder, tongue flickering out to chase the dwindling taste.  
  
He must’ve been too frantic, because he felt Bill frown and pull away. Bill looked at him, seeing Dipper’s panic.  
  
“You okay, Pine Tree?” he asked.  
  
Dipper let his hands clench at his lap, lost. “I… I don’t know, I…” He touched his lips, eyes losing focus as his thoughts overwhelming him. “I can’t feel it, I can’t feel anything!”  
  
Bill angled his head to look Dipper in the eye. “You can’t feel what?”  
  
“The warmth!” At Bill’s puzzlement, Dipper rushed to explain. His hands clenched at his stomach. “The-the-the warmth, the aphrodisiac!”  
  
“You can’t feel it?”  
  
“No!” Dipper rubbed his face, curling in on himself. He was becoming painfully aware of his nakedness, and he cursed himself for his previous boldness. He groaned into his hands.  
  
Bill shrugged. “It wears off after a while, kid, cause you get used to it.” His hands ran up Dipper’s shoulders. “What, can’t get it up without some demon drugs?”  
  
Dipper blushed, glaring at him. “No. I just…” He waved his hand. “It’s-it’s fine.” He covered himself with his hands, looking down.  
  
Bill tilted his chin up, insisting. “No, it’s not.”  
  
He held Dipper’s gaze, waiting for him to speak.  
  
Dipper broke down, “Agh! I just _think_ too much.” He rambled on, hunching over. “It not like s-sex is… some kind of _special_ thing it’s just, you know, awkward and I’m not _good_ and I just— I just _think_!”  
  
Bill let him rant.  
  
Then he looked Dipper in the eye, and gently pushed him down onto the bed, letting Dipper fall back. Dipper stiffened, staring up at Bill.  
  
Bill leaned over him, placing his hands on either side of Dipper’s hips.  
  
His voice lowered to a whisper, “Then just don’t.”  
  
Dipper snorted, using snark to cover up his discomfort. “I can’t just _stop thinking_.”  
  
Bill considered that, and then lowered his head to Dipper’s gut, placing a kiss on his stomach. “Then I’m gonna have to make you.” Dipper gulped.  
  
“Make me do— _Aghnnn!_ ” Dipper’s sarcasm broke off into a moan. His hands shot down to push at Bill’s head in surprise.  
  
Bill’s mouth was on his cock, the warm velvet wetness wrapped around him, coaxing him into hardness. He felt it flush with blood, stiffening from the sudden attention.  
  
“B-Bill, what are you—Ah! Shit, Bill!”  
  
Dipper bit his lip to stifle his sounds, legs widening of their own volition. Bill hummed around him, and Dipper keened, letting his hands fall back to tangle into the bedsheets.  
  
He was sure he was as red as a pepper now, eyes screwed shut against the onslaught of new sensations. This was- this was new, something he’d only ever fantasised about when reading those dirty Greek myths. Another moan broke free of him before he could stifle it, and his hands clenched in mortification.  
  
Bill licked at the tip of his cock, and those thoughts splintered away, replaced by the sudden spear of want curling in his gut. His hips jerked up, and he felt Bill grin around him.  
  
Bill’s head bobbed up and down, swallowing around Dipper’s cock until he’d lost the capacity to even wonder how Bill wasn’t choking on it. It was tight and wet and warm, and for the moment, his entire world narrowed to that single point.  
  
Noises of pleasure were tumbling out of his mouth, little obscenities spilling out, and it took Dipper a minute or two to realise he was speaking.  
  
“Hnnn, yes, ah, yes! Shit! B-Bill!”  
  
Bill hummed and continued sucking, hollowing his cheeks out and curling his finger’s around Dipper’s base. His nose dipped into the patch of coarse hair there as he swallowed down.  
  
The coil wound tighter and tighter in Dipper’s gut.  
  
“B-Bill, I’m gonna—”  
  
Bill’s mouth moved off of him with a wet pop.  
  
Dipper groaned in frustration, shivering as the cool air hit his aching cock.  
  
“Better, kid?” Bill asked, voice all smooth and polished as if Dipper’s cock hadn’t been halfway down his throat the moment before.  
  
Dipper groaned and turned his head into the pillow, eyes clenched shut. “Fuck you, Bill,” he hissed half-heartedly.  
  
“That’s the point, Pine Tree.” Bill smirked, and Dipper wanted to kick him in the face.  
  
Bill peppered his stomach with kisses. Dipper looked back to see Bill sucking on his own fingers, and Dipper had to bite his lip at the sight. _Shit._ His cock twitched at the memory of that heat around it.  
  
His legs spread wider in anticipation.  
  
Bill noticed and looked Dipper in the eye, winking. Dipper blushed and froze.  
  
Bill popped his fingers out, tapping Dipper’s hips with his other hand. “Turn around.”  
  
Dipper didn’t hear him, mesmerised by the light glinting off Bill’s wet digits. Bill clicked his fingers in Dipper’s face, snapping him out of it. Bill raised his eyebrows, motioning again. “Turn around, Dipper.”  
  
He pulled at Dipper’s hips, and Dipper flipped over, landing on his stomach. Bill tutted, shaking his head.  
  
“No, no,” he waved his hand. “On your knees, hands on the headboard.”  
  
Dipper rose up and obliged, reddening. His hands tightened around the wooden bedframe, stare fixed straight at the grainy pine. Bill kissed his lower back, murmuring, “That’s it.” He tapped Dipper’s thighs. “A little wider, please.”  
  
Dipper shifted, widening his stance. He was starting to shake - whether from the chill or from anticipation, he couldn’t tell.  
  
Bill’s hand trailed down his back, running up and down his thigh. Dipper shivered, and tried to keep still. The hand rubbed circles into his tailbone, the feathery touch moving down to tease at his entrance.  
  
Bill’s voice was almost too quiet to hear. “Do you want this?”  
  
Dipper took a deep breath in. His face felt hot, and he screwed his eyes shut. He nodded.  
  
Bill titched. “Can’t hear you, Pine Tree.”  
  
“Yes!” Dipper blurted out, his knuckles whitening as his nails dug into the headboard.  
  
A finger pushed into him, and he bit his lip.  
  
It pumped into him, sliding in and out with ease. It felt both weird and familiar, and Dipper felt his muscles shift to accommodate it. His anxiety reared its ugly head, and he clamped down on it, concentrating on the feeling of Bill inside him.  
  
Bill added in a second finger, and Dipper hissed at the stretch. Bill was silent behind him, working Dipper open. He crooked his fingers, digging mercilessly into Dipper’s prostate, and Dipper whimpered. Bill continued to rub at it, coaxing the nerves to swell up and respond. Dipper’s breathing deepened, and he pushed back onto Bill’s fingers when they retreated.  
  
Bill’s third finger seemed more frantic that the others, pistoning in and out of him just enough to make sure he was stretched and ready. Dipper rested an elbow on the headboard and whined into it, hips jerking from Bill’s movements.  
  
Bill pulled out, leaving Dipper empty and wanting. He moaned, turning his head to look back.  
  
Bill was licking his lips, eyes predatory.  
  
Dipper shivered at the sight. Some part of him was gloating that he was the object of Bill’s undivided attention, that he was the one making a demon so focused and attentive and _hungry_.  
  
Bill caught Dipper’s stare, his grin widening, all pearly white teeth and dirty promises.  
  
“Ready, Pine Tree?”  
  
Dipper nodded, and Bill grasped his hips, lining himself up. Dipper’s head hung, waiting.  
  
Bill pushed into him, slow and sweet, and Dipper shifted to accommodate him. He sighed at the feeling of fullness, waiting for the slight burn to leave.  
  
Bill’s hands roamed across his back, winding around to tweak at Dipper’s nipples.  
  
“You know,” he said, watching the way Dipper pushed into the touch. “I wanted to eat you at first.”  
  
“Wh-what—?” Dipper’s question broke off as Bill pulled out and slammed into him, rocking him forward.  
  
“Yeah,” said Bill, hips thrusting in and out. “Thought you were a blood sacrifice.” He pinched Dipper’s nipple. “I usually get those.” Dipper shuddered, struggling to pay attention to Bill’s words. Bill continued, “But this… this is much better.”  
  
He picked up the pace, pumping in with a new purpose. Dipper yelped, bracing himself against the headboard. It creaked under him. The pressure was starting to build up again, pleasure trickling in in a steadier stream, little sparks of it whenever Bill’s cock brushed up against that spot inside of him.  
  
Bill’s angle shifted, and he was hitting Dipper’s prostate with every thrust, and the sparks turned into sharp bolts. Dipper keened, hips pushing back against Bill as best as he could. His cock bounced against his stomach, trailing sticky precum.  
  
The bed was shaking with their movements, the mattress bouncing underneath him. Dipper spared a thought for Bill’s silencing charm, because the whole house would’ve heard them by now without it. Dipper was trying to quieten his moans, letting them ring in his throat and writhe behind his teeth.  
  
“But I’m forgetting…” Bill murmured, pressing his front against Dipper’s back, hot as the sun. He blew into Dipper’s ear, making him shiver. “I promised to make you stop thinking.”  
  
Dipper didn’t have time to wonder what Bill meant by that, because there was a hand at his cock and another at his throat, pressing at the sides of his neck. The hand at his cock wrapped around him, pumping in time to Bill’s thrusts, the grip tight and rough. It felt raw and wonderful, and Dipper could still breathe, but he was starting to feel fuzzy.  
  
“B-Bill…” he managed. “What are you…?”  
  
Bill kissed his shoulder in reply, slamming into him.  
  
Dipper’s head was stuffed full of cotton, and he was startled by how quick it all happened. Every jab at his prostate, every thrust and pump and kiss felt like pinpoints of pleasure, rocking straight to his cock. He let out a broken moan, head dropping as his eyes closed. Bill’s hand at his throat didn’t let go.  
  
He tried to lift his head up, but it only lolled back.  
  
The coil in his gut was tight, ready to snap and flood through him.  
  
He gasped, hips stuttering in their pace. Right there, c’mon, right now, he was gonna—  
  
Bill’s hand tightened around the base of his cock, stopping his orgasm in its tracks.  
  
Dipper sobbed, shaking his head in frustration. _Damnit!_  
  
He let out a string of broken please and curses and platitudes, fingers digging so hard into the wood of the headboard that he couldn’t even feel them anymore.  
  
His own voice sounded raw and desperate, a long moan of, “Please please please please,” that dwindled down into whispering whimpers.  
  
His vision was starting to go dark, his head cloudy and sluggish. He gasped, blinking blearily to try and clear it. It got steadily worse, every thought slipping away one by one.  
  
Bill was still pumping into him, the sensation of it both dull and overwhelmingly vivid, crashing over Dipper in waves, one after the other. It swamped him, curling into his limbs and trickling over his skin. It washed through his head, his thoughts flooded full of nothing but _please_ and _more_ and _Bill_.  
  
He was drowning.  
  
The throbbing in his cock was painful, the pleasure beating itself against the walls in a desperate bid to be released.  
  
Somewhere, past the roaring in his ears, Bill was saying something.  
  
Dipper strained to hear him.  
  
“You’re there, Pine Tree.”  
  
Dipper’s vision was nearly black.  
  
Bill slammed into him with full force, letting his neck and cock go at the same time. Dipper gasped like a dying man, colour flooding back into the world in a rush of blood. His head spun from it, and he screamed out his release.  
  
His back arched, cum shooting over the bed covers in vivid white strings. The bedframe creaked and groaned underneath them.  
  
Dipper was afraid it might break.  
  
Bill fucked him through his orgasm, making Dipper writhe and sob, calling out Bill’s name like a manic prayer. He braced himself, stiff with exhaustion. His legs burned, muscles screaming, and he pushed himself to stay upright.  
  
With a final thrust, Bill growled, nails digging into Dipper’s hips and leaving crescent bruises. He spilled himself inside, curling around Dipper like a bracket, all sharp angles and pent up energy.  
  
Dipper was sobbing, crying out again and again and again as the pleasure burned and ebbed away.  
  
They stayed like that for a while, each frozen in their climax.  
  
Dipper sucked in a shuddering breath, breaking up the silent spell.  
  
He went limp, his arms wobbling as he fell down to brace himself against the mattress.  
  
Bill let Dipper’s hips go, watching the blood rush back into the pale dentures left by his fingers.  
  
His hair had fallen into his eyes, the golden strands sticking together with sweat.  
  
Dipper tried to move, mewling when Bill slipped out of him. He felt empty and loose, boneless and sated.  
  
Bill disentangled and pulled back, flopping down onto the bed. Dipper let his arms fold beneath him, falling down with a soft thump.  
  
Both were heaving for breath, trying to get themselves under control again. Bill felt warm beside Dipper, inviting and all too human. Without sparing a thought, he moved closer to him, letting their skin touch and relishing the contact.  
  
Dipper was the first to speak.  
  
“That was… intense.”  
  
Bill hummed, but said nothing. Dipper turned to face him, pulling the pillow towards him.  
  
A thought occurred to him, and he bit his lip. “So,” he said, trying to find the best words. “You said you wanted to… eat me?”  
  
Bill snorted, stretching his arms up above him like a content cat. “Yep.”  
  
At Dipper’s concerned look, Bill grinned. “I’m a war demon, kid. I get blood sacrifices.”  
  
Dipper considered this. Strangely, he didn’t feel scared at all. “So why didn’t you?”  
  
“Eat you?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Bill shrugged, looking up at the ceiling. After a moment, he said, “Demons don’t have sex - it’s a human thing. We can only get pleasure from it if it’s with a human.” He looked at Dipper. “So, you offered, and I thought, ‘Why not?’”  
  
Dipper frowned. That made sense, kinda, but something was off. “What about succubi?”  
  
“Succubi?” Bill chuckled. “Succubi aren’t getting pleasure from sex, they’re getting your soul.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
They fell back into companionable silence, their legs intertwining idly.  
  
All of a sudden, Bill asked, “Why did you want to join the Brotherhood so much?”  
  
It was Dipper’s turn to snort, raising a sarcastic brow. “I thought demons know everything.”  
  
“You’ve a mental shield, remember?” Bill sniped back.  
  
Dipper hummed at that. He explained then, “The Brotherhood… well, the Brotherhood has everything.” His eyes widened in wonder. “Books, scrolls, four hundred years’ worth of expeditions and demonic deals and _knowledge_. It’s the dream.” Dipper’s speech was interrupted by a yawn. Sleep was starting to creep up on him.  
  
Bill turned to him, propping himself up on his elbow. “I could give you that.”  
  
“What, knowledge?” Dipper smirked.  
  
Bill nodded.  
  
Dipper snorted, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, right. For what?” He yawned. “My soul?”  
  
Bill pouted childishly, a mischievous spark in his eye. “Of course.”  
  
Dipper sighed, closing his eyes. “Then no thanks. I happen to like my soul right where it is, thank you very much. Ow!” Bill had slapped him playfully. Dipper’s glare turned into a smirk. He closed his eyes again, batting at Bill’s hand. “Stop it, I’m tired.”  
  
Bill laughed, flopping back down. Dipper felt the mattress move and then settle. He smiled, feeling himself drift off. Cum was drying on the bedsheets and on his inner thighs, but he’d worry about that later. He wondered if Bill could magic it away for him like he did before.  
  
Just as Dipper felt himself fall into sleep, Bill piped up. “There’s a powerful charm on this house.”  
  
Dipper jerked up, fighting sleep. “Hmm?” What had Bill said? Should he worry?  
  
Bill shook his head, patting Dipper’s arm.  
  
“Nothing. Go to sleep.” His voice sounded so smooth, like milk and honey over velvet.  
  
Dipper obliged, letting the darkness consume him.

He woke, once again, to an empty bed and a spotless room.  
  
He sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and looking around. His hair fell around him in a nested mess, and he shook it out of his face.  
  
Bright sunlight streamed through the stained glass window, colouring the room in a cheery yellow. Somewhere, a bird was singing, and all around was the quiet peacefulness of the forest.  
  
Dipper sighed, pulling himself out of bed.  
  
His feet hit the floor and he stood up, hissing. His stiff muscles gave a weak protest, and he stretched them out, wincing as blood flooded back into them.  
  
He walked over to the door, and his eye caught on the Journal sitting on his desk.  
  
He froze.  
  
Taking two large leaps, he grabbed it off the desk and flicked it open, hands settling on the page filled with scribbled daemonic.  
  
He could still read it.  
  
He whooped, long and loud, jumping up into the air. Yes! Finally!  
  
He must’ve done it pretty loudly, because Mabel burst into his room, looking haggard. “Dipper! What happened?” she yelled.  
  
Dipper stilled and turned around sheepishly. “Um. Hi, Mabel.”  
  
She fixed him with a stare. “S’ everything okay?”  
  
He nodded, grinning, “Uh, yeah.” When she said nothing, he caught on. “Oh! Yeah, sorry, uhm.” He showed her the Journal. “I figured it out.”  
  
She frowned, looking him up and down. “Jeez, Dipper, you looked _wrecked_. What d’you do last night?”  
  
Dipper blushed, stammering, “U-umh, I, uh…”  
  
Mabel rubbed the bridge of her nose, bringing a hand up to stop him. “Okay, actually, I don’t wanna know.” She fixed him with a disapproving stare. “Look, Dip-dop, if you wanna ruin your health by staying up all night ‘researching’ or whatever, that’s your business.” She sighed and turned to go, pulling the door behind her.  
  
Dipper caught her on the way out. “Mabel, wait!” When she stopped, he asked. “Did you hear anything?”  
  
She raised an eyebrow. “Hear…?”  
  
“Yeah,” he nodded, reddening. “Like, at all. Anything.”  
  
“No,” she said incredulously. She shook her head, exasperated. “Dipper, it’s too early in the morning for your weirdness. I’m going back to bed.” And she walked out, shutting the door behind her.  
  
Dipper was left alone in his room.  
  
He looked back at the Journal.  
  
Damn, he could start researching now. He could read it all now, even the little secret bits, so putting it all together should be easy. He’d already read some of it yesterday, starting to pull the strings together to form a picture. If he started now, he’d be finished with it by the evening, and he’d have plenty of time to assemble all of the new information and give himself more expedition starting points. Then he’d have to plan the expeditions, of course, read up on the various monsters and creatures mentioned, maybe send for some more books from the Brotherhood—  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud growl.  
  
Dipper looked down at the stomach, and then back up.  
  
Right, breakfast first, and then, _research._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill comes a few more times (if u kno what i mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took so long ;;-;;  
> i had exams and then i got really sick lmao  
> this was originally only half the chapter, but i hit 7K words and was like "ok ye im posting it or ppl gonna think i died"
> 
> also, edited this and previous chapters, added more spacing for accessibility!
> 
> once again, unbetaed, plz comment if u find any issues!
> 
> EDIT: THEY WERE /GNOMES/ NOT DWARVES I FUCKED UP I FUCKED UP (@_@) i fixed it tho

After that, the visits became more frequent.

  
  
  


Two weeks after learning daemonic, Dipper was stuck with idioms.  
  
The Journal had a lot – you wouldn’t think it would, since the author wasn’t a native speaker, but Dipper guessed that they were used as another layer of code. He’d stumble upon random phrases that didn’t make sense in human languages – “taking a demonite by the tail” or “the air of Mormodon”, and then anything beyond that started to lose meaning until the daemonic became scribbled gibberish again.

  
  
  


So he’d waited until Grunkle Stan and Mabel went out for groceries to summon Bill.  
  
The demon appeared with a poof, and Dipper didn’t even blink at the accompanying flash of light.  
  
Bill opened with his usual line; “Well, well, well. What would you have of me today?”  
  
“Idioms,” said Dipper, moving closer. The Journal was propped open in his arms, and he pointed at the offending words.  
  
“Alright.” said Bill.  
  
He pulled Dipper close, hands snaking into his hair as he caught him in a kiss.  
  
Dipper pulled back, “Wh-wait, what about—”  
  
“I’ll teach you along the way.”  
  
Bill did something with his tongue, and Dipper went boneless against him, relaxing into the warm grip. He could feel Bill grin against him. They walked backwards until Dipper’s ass hit the edge of the table, jilting it. He turned around, but Bill pulled him back in with a soft tug on his hair, swiping a hand out behind them. Dipper heard papers flutter and books clatter to the floor, and made a noise of protest.  
  
“Shh, I’ll clean it up later,” whispered Bill, biting at Dipper’s lip. He lifted Dipper up onto the table, seating him on the edge and pushing into the V of his thighs.  
  
Their hips ground against each other, and Bill hummed into the kiss, hands roaming over Dipper’s back, tangling into his hair. He rutted up against him, letting Dipper hook his legs around his hips. Both were starting to harden, heat seeping in through the layers of cloth.  
  
Bill palmed him, coaxing him into full mast, and Dipper gasped.  
  
A thought occurred to him.  
  
Dipper pulled away a little, breath ghosting over Bill’s lips. “Bill?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Can you do magic?”  
  
Bill nosed along the line of Dipper’s throat. “Magic?”  
  
“Yeah,” said Dipper. He pulled at Bill’s clothes and then motioned at his own, doing it until Bill got the idea.  
  
Bill flicked his hand and Dipper watched his shirt melt away into shadows, slithering off of his skin.  
  
“Like this?” Bill whispered.  
  
“Yeah.” Dipper whispered back in awe, winding his hands around Bill’s neck and pulling him forward. He heard, rather than felt, the rest of his clothes slip away like water. He caught sight of them out of the corner of his eye, lying neatly folded on a chair.  
  
Bill pushed at him, lowering Dipper down onto the table. He broke the kiss, and Dipper looked up at him.  
  
The stained glass window caught Bill’s pale hair, lighting it aflame. His eyes burned like little coals set in his dusky skin. Dipper looked a little closely, and saw that they were like a cat’s, all slitted gold and mischievous promise. Bill was staring at him with all the intensity of a hungry predator.  
  
Dipper shivered.  
  
He remembered what Bill’d said before, about blood sacrifices, and held it up to how Bill was looking at him now. He looked like he wanted to _eat_ him.  
  
Bill didn’t let him think too long, lowering his head to nip at Dipper’s neck and mouth at his collar bones. Dipper sighed, letting it go, pulling Bill closer to rub up against him. Bill took one of Dipper’s nipples, rolling it around with his tongue, and Dipper moaned, arching into Bill’s mouth.  
  
Bill’s hands snaked down to cup Dipper’s ass, fingers teasing at his entrance.  
  
He made quick work of preparing him, his fingers scissoring in Dipper’s hole. Dipper’s cock was hard and leaking, straining for attention. Dipper pulled his head up and caught sight of Bill’s own angry, red erection. He licked his lips.  
  
Bill pushed into him with ease, settling in right where Dipper needed him.  
  
  
“Sh-shit, ah, Bill, just like that,” he whispered into Bill’s hair, tugging at the strands. Bill chuckled.  
He started to move.  
  
Dipper arched into him, kissing along Bill’s throat.  
  
This was easy now, this simple intimacy, and Dipper could almost forget how they’d ended up like this. That this was all a bargain.  
  
Wait.  
  
“Bill.”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“The idioms.”  
  
Bill slowed, remembering. “Oh, right.”  
  
Dipper wriggled his hips, urging him to keep moving.  
  
“Just… teach them to me now.” he gasped out.  
  
“Alright.” said Bill, hitching Dipper’s leg over his shoulder. His angle changed, and he was thrusting deeper. Dipper moaned at the friction, matching Bill’s pace.  
  
“Pine Tree.”  
  
Dipper turned to look at Bill with lidded eyes.  
  
Bill licked his lips and let out a string of daemonic. _To swallow grass snakes._  
  
“That means, ‘to be cursed into silence’.” said Bill. “Repeat.”  
  
Dipper repeated the daemonic, adding on, “T-to be cursed into silence.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Bill’s hips snapped forward, making Dipper cry out.  
  
“Next,” Bill hummed, and said the daemonic phrase. _The stare of an earthenware hound._ He explained, “A looks of cold distrust. Repeat.”  
  
Dipper said the phrase, and then, “A look of c-cold distrust.”  
  
“Good, you’re getting it.” Bill grinned salaciously, punctuating it with another sharp thrust. He hitched Dipper’s second leg up, wrapping his hands around Dipper’s waist to keep him steady.  
  
“Next.”  
  
They fell into a rhythm; Bill explaining idioms and Dipper doing his best to answer coherently, committing the phrases to memory while trying not to cum on the spot.  
  
Bill was making that bit hard – every second thrust would land on Dipper’s prostate, making him keen and arch up. Bill would then still and test him on an idiom they’d already learned, grinning mischievously all the while.  
  
Dipper didn’t think he’d be able to read the Journal without remembering this all the time.  
  
“Pine Tree.”  
  
Bill’s voice snapped him out of his haze. Dipper struggled to focus on Bill’s face, his vision swimming.  
  
“Pine Tree, listen.” said Bill, repeating a phrase in daemonic. _Into the mouth of the wolf._ “What does that mean?”  
  
Dipper licked his lips, pulling the memory up. “G – ahnn— g-good luck.”  
  
“Excellent.” Bill whispered, kissing along Dipper’s jaw. “We’re done.”  
  
“Wh-we are?”  
  
“For now.” said Bill.  
  
He grabbed Dipper’s hips and shifted, driving forward.  
  
The new angle jabbed into Dipper’s prostate, and he moaned, writhing. Bill didn’t let up, every merciless thrust bringing Dipper closer and closer to climax. Dipper’s nails scrabbled over the desk, leaving shallow claw marks in the wood.  
  
Bill’s name was a flowing litany on his lips, every gasp like a prayer. Hair fell into his eyes and he didn’t have the energy to flick it off. His entire being was narrowed to that single point of contact between them.  
  
At a particularly hard thrust, Bill’s hand snaked away and wrapped itself around Dipper’s cock. Dipper hissed at the touch.  
  
Bill gave him a few hard tugs, and suddenly Dipper was coming into Bill’s fist, arching off the table. His orgasm washed over him in waves, ebbing and flowing in cycles until Dipper forgot where he was, bright white blocking out his vision.  
  
There were words coming out of his mouth, a long string of curses. They didn’t sound familiar to him, but then again, nothing did right now.  
  
Bill’s pace faltered, and then he was cursing too, pushing into Dipper and spilling himself there. 

  
  
  


When Dipper came down from his high, Bill was pulling out, cleaning away their spillages with a flick of the wrist. He gently lowered Dipper’s legs, pulling him off the table and down into a chair.  
  
Dipper hissed at this, his ass uncomfortably sore on the hard wood.  
  
He looked over, and stopped.  
  
Bill was staring at him weird.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Not bad, Pine Tree.” Bill grinned.  
  
Dipper frowned, rubbing his back. “Huh?”  
  
Bill nodded at him, folding his arms at his chest. “The cursing. Good daemonic use.” He winked. “Your pronunciation needs a bit of work, though.”  
  
Dipper stammered, “I, uhm… thanks?”  
  
When Bill snickered again, Dipper slapped him on the arm, grinning himself. 

  
  
  


Dipper got downstairs just in time to see Grunkle Stan and Mabel returning. Both looked sour and tired, with pinched expressions and bags laden full of food.  
  
“You okay?” he asked, walking over to help them with the bags.  
  
Mabel sighed and listlessly said, “Yeah.”  
  
Dipper frowned, but didn’t say anything.  
  
Grunkle Stan stopped in the middle on the hallway and sniffed. He wrinkled his nose and said, “Uh… why’s it smell like sulfur, kid?”  
  
Dipper flushed.

  
  
  


The next visit came after Dipper got stuck with a spell.

  
  
  


Reading through the idioms – and, boy, was that a struggle, with his face heating up every time he worked through one – Dipper stumbled on a chapter full of spells.  
  
All of them concealed, all of them rare, and all of them very, very powerful.  
  
Even reading about them gave Dipper a rush.  
  
He knew that he’d never be able to practice them – some needed an actual blood sacrifice to start, and one even concerned itself with opening the literal Gates of Hell – no, he’d never try them, but he’d love to study them. To know what made them tick, the exact proportions of ingredients and spoken word and theory that went into magic. He could quantify it, dissect it, prove magic was just another facet of the wide world of science.  
  
But to start studying the spells, he’d first have to be able to actually say the damn things out loud.  
  
So, he called Bill.

  
  
  


Looking back, it wasn’t the best idea.  
  
Bill took one look at the Journal, grinned, and threw Dipper onto the desk, pushing him around until Dipper’s front was pressed into the wood and his ass was up in the air.  
  
“Bill, what the fu—?”  
  
“Shush, kid,” Bill interrupted.  
  
A cloth covered Dipper’s eyes and he jerked back. Everything was dark. Bill slammed him back down with a firm hand, hips grinding into Dipper’s ass.  
  
“Shh, shh, shh, it’s ok, just trust me, kid.” Bill whispered, trying the cloth at the back of Dipper’s head and placing a soft kiss on the nape of his neck.  
  
_Trust you? You’re a demon!_ Dipper thought. Bill rolled his hips again and Dipper shuddered, feeling the outline of Bill’s hard cock. _B-but then again… he’s never given me a reason to not trust him._  
  
Bill was murmuring above him, running fingers under Dipper’s shirt. “You wanna work on your pronunciation, hmm, Pine Tree?”  
  
His fingers skirted down to the edges of Dipper’s trousers, threading through the belt loops and sliding it out. Bill’s hand snaked inside, wrapping itself around Dipper’s dick and coaxing him into full hardness.  
  
Dipper moaned, his back bowing.  
  
The lack of sight made everything electric. Every touch came unexpected. He was left guessing, gasping, pressing into the touches, his skin tingling with it. He whimpered.  
  
Bill’s breath hissed into his ear, “You’re gonna speak for me, Pine Tree?”  
  
He didn’t let Dipper answer, pulling down both of their trousers in one swift motion. Dipper could hear faint slithering sounds, so he guessed Bill must’ve used magic too. Damn, that was convenient. Maybe after he learned some spells, he’d get Bill to teach him that one—  
  
Dipper bit his teeth and flushed. _Teach me that one? Oh God, I sound as if I’m gonna be using it often._  
  
“Thinking ‘bout something nice, Pine Tree?”  
  
“Ahn… ”  
  
Bill’s fingers pressed at Dipper’s entrance, pushing through the ring of muscle. “Concentrate, Pine Tree, I’m gonna—” His fingers started pumping in and out, and Dipper whined. “—Gonna teach you something.”  
  
Dipper made a high-pitched noise in the back of his throat, hips moving back and forth. Yes, he’s missed this. He’s wanted this. _Shit… Need that spell. Wanna do this often._  
  
Bill pulled out, judging Dipper sufficiently stretched. He moved back completely, and Dipper’s head whipped around, listening for him. He heard Bill chuckle, and then felt his hands on Dipper’s back. They were hot brands, and Dipper pressed into them.  
  
He felt Bill lean in close, his breath brushing over Dipper’s shoulder. “Repeat after me, Pine Tree. _Amhos._ ” _’Shit.’ He’s teaching me swear words?_  
  
Bill thrust in suddenly, and Dipper choked on it, “ _Amhas!_ ” He sucked in a breath, trying to adjust to the sudden stretch. In the dark, it felt much more pronounced. Bill’s fingers were digging into his hip.  
  
“No, kid, _amhos_ , with an ‘o’.” Bill said, pulling out a little and thrusting back in.  
  
Dipper let out another short, stuttering whine, fingers digging into the wooden table beneath him.  
  
Bill thrust in again, “Say it.”  
  
“ _A-amhos. Amhos_!”  
  
Bill rewarded him with a grinding roll of his hips which made Dipper writhe. “Good. Next. _Eipeago._ ” _Carrion._  
  
“ _Eipeago._ ”  
  
Another roll of Bill’s hips. “Next.”  
  
Bill leaned in, hissing into Dipper’s ear. He murmured something, a hiss that sounded like a word but descended into a breath. Bill’s hips were still moving, making Dipper’s breath catch.  
  
He managed, “W-what?”  
  
Bill tutted, stilling his hips. “Tch, listen, kid.”  
  
He said it again, but Dipper still couldn’t hear.  
  
Dipper groaned, squirming, trying to get Bill to move again. Bill pushed his hips down, holding him still.  
  
He said it again, and Dipper shook his head, whining, “I can’t, Bill! I can’t hear you!”  
  
Bill whispered, “Try again”, and then placed a gentle kiss on Dipper’s ear.  
  
It started as a faint ringing, and Dipper suddenly felt so dizzy that he had to rest his head on the table. He was deaf, his hearing eclipsed by the roar of blood in his ears. Bill kept rocking into him, every stroke languid and slow, grinding into his prostate.  
  
It was maddening.  
  
“B-Bill, I think I’m gonna—”  
  
Just as suddenly, the ringing subsided, and he heard it.  
  
“ _Amorgos._ ” said Bill. _Mine._  
  
“ _Amor-amorgamenos._ ” Dipper breathed back. _Yours._  
  
He felt Bill grin into the skin of his shoulder and thrust in, hard, jabbing into Dipper’s favourite bundle of nerves. Dipper keened, his back arching.  
  
“Can you hear me now?”  
  
“Y-yes,” Dipper choked back.  
  
Bill shifted and wrapped his hand around Dipper’s cock, giving it a few pumps. He kissed Dipper’s other ear, and sped up the pace. Dipper squirmed beneath him, breathing heavily.  
  
“Close?” Bill murmured.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
And then Bill sped up, stroking Dipper until he screamed out his release, hips stuttering as he spilled into Bill’s hand. Bill groaned behind him, fucking Dipper through his orgasm. It started going just a touch on that side of painful, and Dipper squirmed again.  
  
“Just—” gasped Bill, and pulled out, coming over Dipper’s back. It felt hot, and Dipper wished he could see Bill’s face. His hands moved up to pull the blindfold down.  
  
Sunlight was streaming through the window, spilling over both of them. They were both flushed and sweaty, but Dipper loved it.  
  
He got up, groaning when his back cracked and the muscles protested.  
  
Bill waved his hands, and their messes disappeared with a swish. The pens and papers that fell of the desk fluttered back up and rearranged themselves into near stacks. Dipper’s eyes strayed and landed of the Journal, its pages still open on the spells.  
  
“So.” he said.  
  
Bill flopped down onto Dipper’s bed, with a sated grin. “So.”  
  
Dipper grabbed a shirt off the floor and pulled it on, raising an eyebrow. “So. Are the swear words gonna help me cast a spell or…?”  
  
Bill snickered, “No, but this is.”  
  
He pulled Dipper forward by the hem of his shirt, pulling him onto Bill’s lap. Bill grinned up at him, enjoying the way Dipper’s face coloured. Then, he pulled Dipper’s mouth to his own.  
  
Dipper squeaked and settled into the kiss, draping his hands over Bill’s shoulders.  
  
Bill pulled away, humming. “Now try.”  
  
He shoved the Journal into Dipper’s chest, watching Dipper like a hawk.  
  
Dipper blinked, the sudden transition from kissing to academics taking a few seconds to settle in. He blinked, frowned, and looked down.  
  
“I’m still seeing the same words…?”  
  
“Read them.”  
  
Dipper gave it a try, and, surprisingly, the words flowed off his tongue like water. They echoed in his ears, seemed to pronounce themselves, spill out of Dipper’s mouth, and he kept going—  
  
Bill slapped a hand over Dipper’s mouth, stopping the words in their tracks. “OHkay, before we bring the house down.” He grinned tightly.  
  
Dipper blinked in a daze.  
  
He blinked again. Frowned. “Holdon a second…” He squinted at Bill. “You mean you could’ve just done that _at the start?_ ”  
  
Bill grinned sheepishly.  
  
“Then… why did we do the whole swearing thing?”  
  
Bill shrugged, “Felt like it.”  
  
Dipper gasped. “You _ass_!” He yelled, whapping Bill with the Journal.  
  
Bill dodged, laughing deep and long. “You love my ass.”  
  
He pulled Dipper down on top of him, knocking the Journal out of Dipper’s grip and pulling Dipper’s mouth back on top of his. Dipper wondered if he should keep playing the angry act, but Bill heard Dipper’s muffled laughter against his lips, pulling Dipper close against him.  
  
Mellow sunlight streamed through the window, throwing everything into shades of honey.

  
  
  


The next time Dipper summoned Bill was late at night.  
  
Mabel and Grunkle Stan were fast asleep, the house all dark and silent. He’d lit the candles, blinked at the flash of light, and waited.  
  
Bill appeared, his hand flicking out the silencing charm without a word.  
  
Dipper opened his mouth, “Can you—”  
  
“Yes.” Bill grabbed Dipper’s face and kissed him, leaning in and licking into his mouth. Dipper hummed against him, his hands dropping down to Bill’s waist. They moved against each other, Bill’s fingers tangling in Dipper’s hair and Dipper’s clenching at Bill’s hips.  
  
Bill leaned back, and unreadable expression in his eyes.  
  
Dipper glanced down, drinking him in.  
  
Bill looked haggard. He still looked like Adonis, all perfect skin and golden hair, but in places, his disguise was slipping. Dipper could see a strained hold in his jaw, a smudge of tired darkness under his eyes.  
  
“You okay?” he frowned.  
  
“Yeah,” Bill breathed, and kissed Dipper again, distracting him. He broke off again, explaining, “Demon Council.”  
  
Dipper hummed his understanding, even if he didn’t really understand much. He was happy Bill shared it with him, at least.  
  
Bill’s hands pulled at Dipper’s clothes, and then both stumbled to the bed.  
  
It was quick work, both of them used to their shared rhythm. Bill was quieter this time, his usual teasing replaced by grunts and stifled moans.  
  
They collapsed back onto each other, their breath misting in the cool night.  
  
Dipper stared up at the ceiling, his brain trying to reconnect.  
  
Bill spoke first. “What’d’you want, kid?”  
  
Dipper licked his lips, “A location.” He looked Bill in the eye. “The gnomes, I think? They’re mentioned as living somewhere here, but it’s hidden.”  
  
Bill assessed him for a moment, and then nodded.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
He pecked Dipper on the forehead, right on his birthmark. “There,” Bill said. “You should have it. Think about gnomes.”  
  
Dipper did, and all of a sudden, he knew exactly where to go. He saw a mossy rock by a stream, and behind it, a cave, fireflies leading him down a narrow walkway until it opened up into a clearing built-up with strange stone houses. Bill was kind enough to give him all of the passages into the dwarven hideout too, instead of just one.  
  
A thought occurred to him.  
  
“You can’t read my thoughts, yeah?”  
  
Bill shook his head, looking up at him patiently.  
  
Dipper licked his lips again, “Then how come you’re able to give me knowledge? Shouldn’t that be blocked too?”  
  
Bill shrugged, “I don’t know. It should be, but it isn’t. Magic like yours is subjective, controllable, but largely subconscious right now. It looks like it works, so its fine.”  
  
Dipper frowned, “But…? How did you know it would work?”  
  
“I didn’t.” Bill said. “Had to try to see.”  
  
Dipper snorted, “All-knowing demon, my ass.” He frowned again. “Wait, ‘controllable’ but ‘largely subconscious right now’?”  
  
Bill nodded, “You can train it, but you’re not skilled right now. Takes time.”  
  
At some point, Dipper ended up glued to Bill’s side, with Bill’s arms wrapped around Dipper’s hips like a warm anchor.  
  
“Can you teach me?” said Dipper.  
  
“Wouldn’t know enough to try.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Bill grinned, “Your kind’s as rare as anything, Pine Tree. You’re the first magic-blocker I’ve met in, well, ever.”  
  
Dipper raised an eyebrow. “Really?”  
  
“Really.”  
  
Dipper has become transfixed by Bill’s lips, moving in closer with every breath. It was so quiet now, both of them hypnotised by this warm silence.  
  
“Would that mean I’m special?” Dipper whispered.  
  
“Very special.” Bill breathed back, and tilted his head to the side.  
  
The kiss was warm and slow, a quiet exploration of lips and teeth and tongues. Dipper shifted around, guiding both of them, Bill pliant and sedated beneath him.  
  
Dipper pulled back for a moment, a question waving in his eyes. Bill only smiled lazily, shifting himself up in a silent permission.  
  
This time, everything was slow and languid and sweet. Dipper pushed into Bill, every move of his hips a gentle roll, fucking into the demon below him. Bill sighed and wrapped his legs around Dipper’s hips, letting Dipper grind down into him.  
  
Everything was so, so quiet, interrupted only by the fluttering rustle of the bedsheets.  
  
“Mmmnn, yes, that’s it,” Bill breathed, canting his hips up. Dipper moaned.  
  
He kissed at Bill’s shoulders, murmuring, “S-so tight.”  
  
“Hmmm,” Bill hummed back, looping his arms around Dipper’s neck.  
  
They moved like rolling waves, all gentle kisses and airy breaths. It felt intimate and hot. Dipper’s skin was on fire, and he loved it, every second.  
  
This time his climax crept up on him, rumbling through him. He stilled, groaning into the hollow of Bill’s shoulder. Bill carded his fingers through Dipper’s hair and reached down between them, finishing himself off with a few tugs.  
  
Dipper collapsed on top of Bill’s chest, tired and sated. He heard his breath skitter over Bill’s skin.  
  
“Is this what it’s like when you take initiative?”  
  
Dipper looked up blearily.  
  
Bill grinned back, “’Cause I like it.” He pecked Dipper on the lips, smiling down at him.  
  
Dipper dropped his head back down, his lips quirking up.  
  
It was so warm.  
  
Shit, he was tired. Bill was like a steady fire, cozy and soft and smelling like sweet smoke. Gentle fingers resumed their shift in Dipper’s hair, and he leaned into the touch.  
  
His eyes fluttered shut.

His bed still smelled like smoke the next morning, but Bill was gone.  
  
Dipper blinked, trying to drive the sleep away from his eyes.  
  
Last night was… nice. Really nice.  
  
He got up, mussed hair falling into his eyes, and looked around the room.  
  
Something caught his eye and he blinked, turning towards the small bedside table near him. There, on the surface, lay a small amulet – a triangular piece of stone with rounded edges, and an intricate eye-shaped inlay at the centre.  
  
Beside it was a note.  
  
Dipper leaned over a squinted, reading;  
  
_“Dipper,  
  
This is an Agate amulet. Drop it on open ground and call my name, and I shall appear.”_  
  
At the end, Bill had drawn a triangle with an eye.  
  
Dipper smirked, running a soft thumb over the carved stone. This was gonna come in handy soon enough.

  
  
  


“Soon enough” turned out to be three days later.

  
  
  


Dipper was running, ducking under slapping pine branches, his feet thumping on the soft earth. Behind him, he could hear the jittering shrieks of vicious little monsters. _Damn gnomes!_  
  
Something hit him from the back, and he went tumbling forward. His face hit dirt, and he coughed, sloughing it away with one hand and propping himself up with the other.  
  
“Filthy human!” the gnome screeched into his ear. Dipper yelled, trying to slap it off. He stood up, and swayed under its surprising weight. It had its claws tangled up in his hair, pulling and scratching.  
  
The gnome hissed, “Thought you could trick the great Shmebulock?”  
  
“Get off of me!”  
  
It shrieked again, and two more gnomes slammed into Dipper’s legs, bringing him back to his knees.  
  
He could hear more coming down the forest pathway, crashing through the underbrush. When ten – no – twenty of them popped out of the nearest bush, Dipper gritted his teeth and made up his mind.  
  
Just as one of the gnomes launched itself at Dipper’s face, he fished the agate amulet out of his pocket, threw it onto the closest grass patch, and shouted,  
  
“ _Cipheres!_ ”  
  
The world exploded into a bright flash. Dipper threw himself down and covered his head with his arms.  
  
Some of the gnomes screeched and fell off in the sudden gust of wind.  
  
Then, just as quickly, everything was silent.  
  
Even the insects had grown quiet.  
  
He peeked up, blinking away the black spots in his eyes.  
  
In a burnt circle, amidst the smouldering stones and smoking leaves, stood Bill. He was crouched, stuck mid-motion in a vicious snarl. When Dipper blinked, he could see after images of Bill’s true form – a terrifying beast of heads and horns and wings, like a living shadow. Bill’s eyes were the least human part of him, slitted and bright. Dipper found that he couldn’t fully focus on them. They would slide into blurriness, grow hazy around the edges, and then Dipper would blink and they would come back into focus just to start their slide again. There was… something, rolling off of Bill in waves, something that made his guts twist and put his hair on end.  
  
Power.  
  
Incredible, intimidating power. He’s never felt that before.  
  
Bill’s form solidified into its human shape, but Dipper could still feel power leaking from it.  
  
_Is this normal?_  
  
Bill looked around and snarled, “Who _dares_ disturb me?”  
  
Dipper felt a cold spear jut through his gut. _Shit._ But then Bill looked past him, at the gnomes at Dipper’s back, and Bill’s face twisted into a furious snarl. He hissed, “ _You!_ ”  
  
“D-demo—” Shmebulock had just enough time to stutter out before Bill swept his arm out in a wide arch and sent a golden whip of fire to catch the gnomes. They went down with high-pitched screeches, and Dipper covered his head again. He could smell burning hair and felt heat on his ears.  
  
Bill sent out another arch of fire before snarling, “Pine Tree!”  
  
Dipper’s head whipped up and he squeaked, “Yes!”  
  
“Fight!” Bill snapped, before lunging at the gnomes. Dipper scrambled up, picking up his backpack and looking over.  
  
There was a manic grin on Bill’s face. He sent gnomes flying left and right, chasing them with snappish flames, more like a wild animal than a human in his frenzy. He looked like he was enjoying himself. Dipper gulped and grabbed the nearest weapon – a tree branch – and began whapping the attacking gnomes.  
  
They were much easier to deal with now that he had help and was more-or-less upright. His backpack hung on his shoulder, unbalancing and dragging him down. Its contents were worth it, though – gems, crystals of any shape and size, glowing with magical energy. This was why he’d wanted to find the gnomes in the first place. It was known that they were farmers of time-altering stones, and Dipper would love to study them.  
  
He heard Bill screech behind him and whipped around to see the last gnome disappear into the underbrush. The little creature was sooty-black and shrieking, and he could hear its panicked cries for a while after it disappeared out of his sight.  
  
He turned back to Bill, and felt a shiver down his back.  
  
Bill looked ravenous – mussed hair, sharp-toothed grin, pupils blown so wide that Dipper couldn’t even see a sliver of the golden iris. He wondered if Bill had let himself look this way intentionally, or if the prim-and-proper demon had lost himself in the fight and hadn’t noticed.  
  
Bill shifted, striding up to Dipper in a few smooth steps. Dipper froze, unsure of what to do.  
  
Bill’s hands lifted up to Dipper’s face and settled gently around it.  
  
He whispered, “Pine Tree.”  
  
Dipper swallowed. “Bill.”  
  
Bill looked him in the eye and moved even closer. “May I…?” His breath was ghosting over Dipper’s lips.  
  
“H…Huh…?”  
  
Bill frowned, lowering his voice. “I assumed our terms were still the same.” He clarified, “May I take what I am owed?”  
  
“Oh!” Dipper bit his lip and nodded hastily. “Yeah. Yes.”  
  
Bill smiled. “Very well.”  
  
Dipper heard a snap of fingers, and suddenly, they were standing right in front of his bedroom door, submerged in the half-light of his hallway. Dipper flinched and stumbled back, his head spinning from the sudden change of environment. His eyes struggled to adjust to the new lighting.  
  
“Sorry. Teleportation illness. Common for newbies.” Bill breathed, and grabbed Dipper around the lapels of his coat, kissing him.  
  
Dipper groaned into the kiss, leaning into Bill and trying to stop his head from spinning. His hands scrabbled at the door behind them, trying to find the knob. His hands tugged at it, and they stumbled through the doorway, nearly tripping on the rug. Bill titched and righted them, pushing Dipper’s coat off his shoulders.  
  
Dipper pulled back to gasp, “Noise!” Before Bill flicked his wrist and lunged back to kiss him.  
  
Dipper had learned to recognise the spelling, feeling the pressure change in his ears, and hummed.  
  
Bill’s jacket came off next, and so did Dipper’s shirt, all of their clothes falling down one by one onto the floor. They stumbled amongst them, trying to move forward into the room.  
  
The adrenalin from the fight hadn’t worn off yet, and they could feel it pumping in their veins, a feverish sort of hotness that made everything spark.  
  
In the end, they didn’t even make it to Dipper’s bed.  
  
Bill fucked him against the wall, strong hands wrapped around Dipper’s thighs and holding both of them up. Dipper moaned and writhed against him, hands racking down Bill’s back and leaving welts that closed back up in seconds. Bill seemed to like this, though, hissing appreciatively whenever Dipper left a particularly smarting scratch. In return, he’d left Dipper’s throat a column of blooming bruises, standing out red and purple against his skin.  
  
They came with twin groans, Dipper keening into Bill’s hair. He sagged, letting Bill fuck into him and sighing when he felt Bill finish a few moments later. Bill leaned against him, panting into Dipper’s shoulder.  
  
Dipper giggled, carding through Bill’s hair, and felt Bill smile against his skin.  
  
Bill mouthed at the hickeys, making Dipper’s breath catch.  
  
“Your skin’s delicious.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Mmmhmm.” Bill hummed, petering off into light pecks over Dipper’s chin. He caught Dipper’s lip in his teeth and moaned, kissing Dipper until it made his toes curl.  
  
He stepped back slowly and let Dipper’s legs unwind and fall back to the floor. Dipper hissed, becoming aware of the stinging at his back. He glanced over his shoulder and groaned at the angry red welts left there.  
  
“Shit, wood burn.” _This’ll be a bother to deal with._  
  
Bill pulled him forward, looking at Dipper’s back. He hummed, “That’s easily fixed.”  
  
Bill pressed cool hands to Dipper’s skin, and Dipper sighed, leaning into the soothing touch. Bill wiped down the expanse of Dipper’s back, leaving the skin soft and peachy. He squeezed Dipper’s ass, grinning at the playful slap it earned him.  
  
Dipper stretched, feeling his newly-healed skin and murmuring, “Hmm, that’s nice.”  
  
Bill stepped back, giving Dipper a once-over and grinning all the while.  
  
Dipper blushed, snagging his discarded pants and pulling them back on. He looked up to see Bill watching him, standing in the sunlight like a damn Greek statue. Dipper looked back down, trying to find his shirt.  
  
“So,” said Bill. Dipper looked up. Bill grinned, “Would I be right to say that that was my payment for the fighting?”  
  
Dipper frowned, lost for the moment. His brain connected the dots and he rushed to nod, “Oh, yeah. Yes. The fighting.”  
  
Bill raised an eyebrow and smiled, “Of course.” He opened his mouth to say more—  
  
The door swung open with a loud slam.  
  
Dipper’s head whipped around, staring the new arrival like a petrified deer.  
  
Mabel stared back, equally disturbed.  
  
They stood like that, frozen.  
  
Finally, Mabel said, “You’re _naked._ ”  
  
His eyes shot down, taking in his bare chest. He looked to his side, too, but Bill was gone, vanished into thin air. He grabbed the nearest thing – a spare book – to cover himself up, and squeaked out an, “ _Uhm…_ Yes.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Yes, I am.”  
  
Mabel squinted, “ _Why_ are you naked?”  
  
“I…uh…” He looked around, taking in the scattered clothes, papers and an overturned chair around him. “I was… researching.”  
  
“Right. _Researching._ ” Mabel continued to stare, as if asking him to continue, but Dipper said nothing. She sighed, rubbing her temples. Then, she said, “Look, Dipper, just…” And then she sighed again.  
  
He licked his lips, spotting his shirt out of the corner of his eyes and edging towards it. “Did, you, uhm, need something, Mabel?”  
  
She was still rubbing her temples. “Well, I did call your name a couple of times, but I guess you didn’t hear me.” She motioned to somewhere behind her. “Dinner’s ready.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Yep.” She turned on her heel. “I’m gonna go now. Come down when you can.”  
  
Dipper nodded, “Okay.”  
  
She sighed a third time and pulled the door closed.  
  
Just before it shut, she stopped, and turned around, fixing him with a confused squint. “Wait, weren’t you in the forest for the day? How did you even _get_ here?”  
  
Dipper gulped.

  
  
  


That night, he lay in bed, turning the agate amulet over and over in his fingers, and thought.  
  
The ceiling boards above his bed were speckled with scratches and spots of chipped paint, scattered like constellations. He could point all of them out, knew them better than the real sky. He’d spent many sleepless nights staring at them, thinking, thinking.  
  
Bill Cipher.  
  
Now there was a strange one.  
  
Dipper couldn’t figure him out, couldn’t even try to.  
  
A benefit, or a boon? A helper, or a hellion? He didn’t know.  
  
_He’s a demon. Can’t trust a demon._ But what if you could? Bill hadn’t given him a reason not to. He’d given Dipper everything Dipper’s asked for, and always asked for a fair price. _But is it a fair price?_  
  
He’s been reading about demons ever since he knew they existed. He’d been twelve, newly-orphaned, lost in the sudden magnitude of the world beyond his family. Their new caretaker, the estranged great uncle Stanford, lived in a cabin in the woods, far from the busy city they were born in. Those first few nights, stuck in the oppressive silence of the forest, were the hardest.  
  
He and Mabel had shared this attic room back then, only it was much larger, darker, all empty and strange and so obviously unlived in. Grunkle Stan tried his best, but they would all need time to adjust to the new living conditions.  
  
On the third night, Dipper had wandered downstairs, exhausted and yet unable to sleep. His feet took him to another dusty room, this one furnished with a shelf and a bookcase and a writing desk.  
  
_Weird,_ he’d thought. _Grunkle Stan can’t write. Why’d he need a writing desk?_  
  
His fingers had danced over the old covers. He, unlike his Grunkle, _could_ write, and read, and so could Mabel. Their parents had insisted. _You’re city children, education is a must,_ they had said. He’d preferred textbooks from the start, while Mabel loved poetry and stories, and their parents were proud.  
  
Now, in the dark and disused study of his Grunkle’s house, Dipper’s fingers stopped at a small black book.  
  
_Damnatis Daemonium,_ it read on the spine.  
  
It sent a chill through him, and he pulled it out, flicking it open.  
  
Black and white etchings stared back at him, terrible faces contorted in rage and agony. Ugly demons, with horns and wings, and beautiful demons, with flowing hair and cruel smiles, all drawn and described in precise detail. It was a guide book, of sorts, on common demons and powerful demons and a few demons in between. There were also rules written there, on demon dealings and handlings, and Dipper took care to memorise them. The little black book became his first trove of knowledge of the paranormal. It held little, being so old and small, but it was still something, and everything he read from it became imprinted in his brain.  
  
He remembered it now, eight years later, staring at the speckled ceiling.  
  
_Rule Number One: Never trust a demon._ Especially if they were pretty. In the general gist of things he’d learned from books, the prettier the demon, the more dangerous it was. _I mean, look at Lucifer._  
  
Bill was certainly pretty.  
  
And funny. And smart.  
  
_Oh no._  
  
He shot up in bed, eyes wide. _Oh no._  
  
No, no, no, no, this wasn’t happening.  
  
_Okay, let’s be rational about this._ Bill wanted Dipper, or, more accurately, Dipper’s body. However much the thought made him blush, that was the truth. Bill wanted Dipper, because Dipper gave him what Bill couldn’t find on his own: the experience of human sex. And that was all. If Bill could get that on his own, and then he wouldn’t need Dipper at all. He wanted to use Dipper as much as Dipper wanted to use him.  
  
And yet doubts were creeping up. Dipper wanted to believe, some part of him at least, and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking.  
  
Bill could have anyone, looking the way he did. Hell, with that disguise magic, he could _be_ anyone. So why did he stay with Dipper? _Maybe he’s insatiable, and maybe he fucks anything he can get his hands on._ Maybe Dipper was just one of Bill’s many ‘customers’. But then, Bill had said something about this, hadn’t he? How he’s only offered this sort of ‘payment’ rarely, how most would give him their blood instead of their body. Then that meant Dipper was the only one ‘paying’ this way, for now.  
  
He was the only one paying this price.  
  
Did that make him feel special?  
  
_This is ridiculous. He’s using me and I know it. I need to stop._ Dipper rubbed his face. _He’s a demon. A demon, a demon, a demon! Stop trying to push humanity onto him!_ But it was hard not to, when Bill acted so human. _Of course he’d act human! Demons are actors, liars, deceivers, the best of the best!_  
  
The problem was that Dipper knew _exactly_ who Bill was.  
  
Cipheres. General of the Golden Trinity. _War Demon._  
  
Dipper knew exactly whom he was dealing with, and he wasn’t afraid. Not even a bit. That was bad. Why wasn’t he afraid? Anyone else would be. Bill was infamous even to humans, belonging to one of the highest tiers of demonkind, ancient and vicious and powerful. Bill could maim him, kill him, take his soul at any moment, and Dipper treated him like any other human. Like a lover.  
  
He groaned into his hands.  
  
No. No, this had to stop. He was being ridiculous. A lover? He’d never treated Bill as a lover, right? Sure, he joked with him and slept with him and even fought with him, but he was doing this for his own gain! Yes! Dipper was using Bill, just as Bill was using him. Two humans – creatures, species, whatever – two autonomous beings engaging in an elaborate business transaction, and Dipper’s convoluted feelings had no place in it.  
  
He nodded to himself.  
  
It was perfect. There were no feelings in this. Just business. He was allowed to have fun during it, though, was he not? And he’d have fun, and then when this business was finished and all the prices were paid, he would leave it all in the past. That’s what he would do.  
  
Just business.  
  
Dipper lay back down and went to sleep, repeating that in his head.  
  
Just business.

  
  
  


He woke up the next morning without a clue of what he was thinking about last night.  
  
  
He knew that he was at peace, and that was all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things progress

Two days later, Dipper opened the door to his room and nearly dropped the clothes he was carrying.  
  
“B-Bill?”  
  
Bill hummed out a greeting, sprawled over Dipper’s bed, leafing through one of his books. The afternoon sun cast the room in warm golds and yellows, and Bill was nestled amongst the cosiness like a pleased cat.  
  
Dipper sputtered, “W-what are you doing here?” He shut the door behind him, lowering his voice. “How did you get in?”  
  
Bill waved his hand, eyes still fixed on the book. “The room’s already soundproofed.” He looked up, pointing at himself. “Also: teleportation. Remember?”  
  
“Oh.” Dipper clamped his mouth shut. _Right. Demon._ He put the clothes down on the table, deciding he’d come back for them later. “Um. Okay. Uh…”  
  
“Why am I here?”  
  
“Uh… yeah.”  
  
Bill shut the book, standing up in one fluid motion.  
  
He looked up at Dipper and shrugged. “I’m bored, Pine Tree.”  
  
Dipper blinked. “Bored?”  
  
“Yeah,” said Bill, stepping closer to him. He grasped the lapels of Dipper’s shirt, pulling him closer. Bill’s voice lowered. “Play with me, Pine Tree.”  
  
Dipper swallowed.

  
  


Later, Dipper found enough of a space between two racing breaths to pant out, “Th-this… like, you’ve never… Been the one to show up first before…”  
  
“Y-yeah…” Bill turned to him, his chest heaving. “I owe you one, kid.”  
  
Dipper only nodded, trying to catch his breath.  
  
The sun was setting.

  
  


That evening, Dipper padded down the stairs, trying to comb out his mussed hair and make himself look more like a member of polite society and less like he’s just had a wild fuck on the floor. His fingers snagged in a clump of strands just as he reached the bottom, and he cursed. Warm light was pouring into the hallway, and he stumbled into it, trying to pick out the tangles.  
  
Faint voices reached him only after a while.  
  
He stopped, listening.  
  
“—Can’t do that!—”  
  
“—Being ridiculous, of course—”  
  
“We’re _not_ , and that’s final!” _…Mabel?_  
  
He pushed the door open and said, “Is everything alright?”  
  
Mabel’s head shot up, eyes wide. She was standing over the table, both hands planted on the surface. Grunkle Stan was there to, seated, leaning away from Mabel. Dipper looked between the both of them, trying to figure out what had just happened.  
  
He lowered his voice. “S’everything ok?”  
  
Mabel nodded. “Yeah! Yeah, everything’s fine.” She stood back from the table, waving her hands. “Sorry. Sorry. Dinner. Right.”  
  
She walked around the table, plopping down into her chair and waving at the food in the middle of it all. “Dip, sit down, sit down.”  
  
Dipper stalled for a moment, waiting to see if either of them would say anything else. Grunkle Stan only set his jaw, his eyes rooted on the patterned tablecloth.  
  
“O-kay…” Dipper whispered, and sat down. Mabel passed him the gravy with a forced smile.  
  
They all dug in, letting the fire crackled away in the corner.  
  
Dipper tried to ignore the tense silence. 

  
  


Dipper called out his name, and Bill poofed into existence, blinking. The sharp midsummer sun was tumbling through the open window, casting long shadows on the ground. Dipper ignored the excited little twinge in his gut when Bill grinned at him.  
  
“Hey, kid—”  
  
“So, about that favour you owe me.” Dipper dove straight into the matter, crossing his arms.  
  
Bill snorted. “What, I don’t even get a ‘hello’?” He grinned and pecked Dipper on the cheek. Dipper huffed and smiled, but pushed Bill away.  
  
“C’mon, Bill, I’m serious.”  
  
Bill sighed and stepped back, spreading his arms. “Alright. What’d’you want?”  
  
Dipper eyed him, biting his lip. “I wanna know the extent of your powers.”  
  
Bill blinked. “Huh?”  
  
“Your magic.” Dipper said. “Remember the gnomes?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Did you…” Dipper thought for a moment. “Were you, like, more…?”  
  
Bill cocked his head. “Powerful?”  
  
“Yeah.” Dipper nodded. “I mean, like, it felt like you were.”  
  
“I was.” Bill conceded, looking at Dipper quizzically.  
  
“Ok.” Dipper stared at the floor. “So… why don’t I feel it now?”  
  
Bill stayed silent, staring at Dipper. He folded his hands behind his back and looked up at the walls. At last, he said, “It’s the house.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“The house. There’s a suppression spell on it.”  
  
Dipper frowned, “What? A suppression spell?”  
  
“Yes.” Bill nodded, looking up at the ceiling. “Most houses have them, actually. You can get them from amulets and all. Books, sometimes. Mostly from natural things like yew wood and running water.”  
  
“Oh.” Dipper said. Ok, that made sense. The house was made of oak and pine, yes, but some of the decorations and furniture were yew.  
  
Bill glanced at him. “Would you like to know about suppression spells?”  
  
Dipper shook his head. “No.” He looked up at Bill, the question he was waiting to ask rolling on the tip of his tongue. “I want you to show me your power.”  
  
Bill cocked his head, frowning. “…Show you? Like, with a spell?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Bill opened his mouth, and then clicked it shut. He coughed. “Alright.”  
  
Dipper let out a shaky breath, excitement starting to rise in him. He knew how powerful Bill was theoretically, but getting to see it in person was something else. “Wh-what will you need?”  
  
“An open space.” said Bill. “Away from the house.”  
  
Dipper nodded. “Okay. I’ll have that. Anything else?”  
  
Bill shook his head. “No, that’s all.”  
  
Dipper grinned, bouncing on his soles. “Alright.”  
  
Bill looked at him, stepping in closer. His voice dropped. “Why so curious, Pine Tree?”  
  
Dipper stilled. He shrugged, rubbing the back of his head.  
  
Bill smirked, tilting Dipper’s head up with a gentle hand, sending a shiver down Dipper’s spine. “Does my power turn you on?”  
  
Dipper sputtered, jerking back. “W-what? No! Bill!”  
  
Bill huffed, breaking into a cheeky laugh. He stepped back in, nuzzling against Dipper’s neck and pressing him into the wall. Dipper chuckled, pushing Bill away. Bill let out a small disappointed sound, but moved back, looking at Dipper.  
  
Dipper raised a brow. “So eager to owe me another favour, Bill?”  
  
Bill snorted, pressing back into Dipper’s space. He whispered, “You wish, kid.”  
  
Dipper pushed him back again, schooling his features into a stern expression. “No, Bill, seriously, c’mon. Not tonight.”  
  
Bill hummed a question, frowning.  
  
“My ass needs to rest, Bill, dammit.” said Dipper, ignoring the flash of embarrassment the words brought on.  
  
“Oh.” said Bill.  
  
Dipper shrugged. “Yeah. Let’s just, like… talk.”  
  
Bill cocked his head. “Talk?”  
  
“Yes, talk.”  
  
Bill stayed silent, his eyes boring into Dipper’s skull. Then, he blinked, and gave a tiny nod. “Alright.”

  
  


It was the day of Mabel and Stan’s weekly food trip, so Dipper had the house all to himself. Mabel threw him a cheeky grin, and with a wink and a, “Don’t get into any trouble, Dip Dop!”, she waltzed out the door. He waved back, grinning weakly in return. Stan cast him another long face, eyebrows scrunching up his forehead, and said, “Don’t burn the Shack down, kid.”  
  
Once they were gone, Dipper packed his bag, stuffing everything he needed into it: cloak, coat, amulet, book, pens and pencils, a blanket. He thudded down the stairs, throwing a quick glance towards the kitchen. He bit his lip. Maybe he should pack some food? There was spare bread and cheese, maybe a cask-full of mulled wine…  
  
He knew what was coming – the thought made him blush – but their deals always ended in a romp. They’d probably be hungry afterwards.  
  
With a tight gritting of teeth, he threw the food in, wrapping it in a small kerchief. The weather outside was nice and sunny, so perhaps he should pack an umbrella…?  
  
_Agh, we don’t even own an umbrella! Dipper, focus!_ He shook his head and slung the pack over his shoulder, walking out the door.

  
  


Dipper legs still burned from their little tryst, but the warm summer breeze felt wonderful on them. The wind kept catching the little drops of sweat on his temple, ruffling through his hair and tugging at the cloth around his hips.  
  
Bill panted into the crook of Dipper’s shoulder, the warm breath spilling over and tickling at Dipper’s ear.  
  
He stared up at the blue sky, framed by a canopy of green, soaking up the sun.  
  
Damn, he’d been right.  
  
Their meeting – a show, as Bill put it – started off pretty innocent.  
  
Dipper asked Bill to show him the full extent of Bill’s powers, and Bill snickered. “Kid, if I did that, you and everything in a six-mile radius would get vaporised.”  
  
Instead, Bill offered to let his masking magic drop away, shrugging it off with a sigh. The forest clearing around them got quieter, the normal sounds of the forest dying away under the sudden rush of blood in Dipper’s ears.  
  
Dipper gasped and staggered back under the new weight of it, the air crackling with sonorous energy. He could _feel_ it, crackling along his skin and pulling at his hair; flowing and abating like the rolling of waves.  
  
“Shit,” he breathed, shivering.  
  
Bill had let his head drop back, closing his eyes and letting his powers stretch and work out their kinks, curling through the air like pleased cats.  
  
Dipper watched it all; the way Bill’s skin glowed, how his whole body started blurring around the edges, how phantom limbs started to form from the wandering particles of golden energy.  
  
Bill eyes snapped open and levelled Dipper with a look, rooting him to the spot.  
  
Dipper watched as Bill stalked up to him, reaching up to cradle Dipper’s head in the palms of his hands.  
  
Bill’s head lowered, his mouth slotting over Dipper’s open lips.  
  
Dipper sighed, his arms winding around Bill waist of their own accord. The feel of Bill’s energy changed, softening and calming around the edges. It blanketed them in a swirl of warmth.  
  
“D’you like it?” Bill whispered.  
  
“Hmm?” Dipper blinked. His head was a jumbled mess, and the words wouldn’t come out.  
  
Bill kissed him on the nose, whispering, “My power. D’you like it?”  
  
Dipper pressed his face into the hollow of Bill’s shoulder, thinking. Little sprites of energy ruffled through his hair and skirted down his shoulders.  
  
“Yeah.” he said at last.  
  
After that, things got blurry.  
  
Bill dragged him down into the tall grass, pulling Dipper close and rolling them through the heather.  
  
Then, Dipper was on top of him, staring down at the halo of Bill’s hair. Bill had his hands up Dipper’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and tossing it away.  
  
Bill’s shirt followed, then his trousers, and then they were under the shade of a tree, staring at each other like two drifting men, one pulling stars from the other’s hair and the other pressing crescents into freckled skin.

  
  


And then Dipper was lying in the grass, tucked into the curve of Bill’s body, enjoying the sun.  
  
His head had cleared, the strange haze of the past hour washing away with every breath.  
  
As he watched a leaf drift down and lose itself in the grass, a thought as clear as day popped into his head.

  
  


_I’m in love with Bill Cipher._

  
  


Everything was… giddy.  
  
He was giddy.  
  
He was so, so giddy; vibrant energy spilling out of his cracks, pushing at the seams until even they were tearing, lighting up his face with a thousand-spark grin.  
  
“Bill! I got it!” Dipper squeaked, rushing up and pulling Bill into a hug. Bill laughed, twirling them around Dipper’s room, letting the sound echo down from the rafters.  
  
The amulet lay on Dipper’s table. He didn’t need to throw it down anymore – a simple thought, a wish, did the trick, with Bill shuttering into existence right before his eyes now.  
  
“You got your letter?” Bill asked when they finally stopped.  
  
“Yeah,” said Dipper breathlessly. He tugged the little slip of paper out of his coat pocket, waving it in front of Bill’s face.  
  
Bill grabbed it, laughing at Dipper’s little yelp.  
  
“Bill, give it back!” Dipper called, trying to be stern and failing, his laughter bubbling out of him. He lurched after Bill, snagging the tail-end of Bill’s shirt and pulling him close.  
  
“C’mon, I’m serious. Give it back.” Dipper set his mouth in a firm line, trying not to smile.  
  
Bill leaned it, the hand holding the letter still stretched way out of Dipper’s reach. “Only if I get a kiss.”  
  
Dipper pecked him on the lips. “There.”  
  
“Aww, come on. Give me a little more, kid.” Bill groaned, his hands dropping to Dipper’s hips. His head dropped down onto Dipper’s, his mouth opening up and licking at Dipper’s lips. Dipper huffed but obliged anyway, sighing into the kiss, his tongue curling around Bill’s.  
  
Bill hummed, pulling them both towards the bed, their lips still glued together. They stumbled, too caught up in what they were doing to watch their steps. Bill’s arms had wound themselves around Dipper’s waist, one hand coming up to tug at Dipper’s hair. The bedframe hit the back of Bill’s legs.  
  
Dipper took the chance to snatch the letter out of Bill’s hands, springing away and turning around to rip it open. Bill squeaked at his sudden abandonment, blinking up at Dipper from the bed.  
  
Dipper turned to him with a victorious grin, his eyes glued to the paper in his hands.  
  
“Dear Brother Pines,” he read out loud, his voice crackling with excitement. “You are cordially invited to the Autumn Equinox Celebrations at Mouth Falls this September Twenty-Third—”  
  
Bill wound his arms around Dipper’s waist, pulling him down to sit in the V of his thighs. Dipper kept reading:  
  
“—Your long-awaited anointment ceremony will also be held that evening. The Brotherhood of the Blind Eye looks forward to welcoming our newest member into our fold—Bill!” Dipper whirled around with a bright grin, his eyes glittering. “ _I’m gonna be a Brother!_ ”  
  
Bill smiled and pecked him on the nose, huffing, “Finally.”  
  
Dipper pouted, play-acting hurt. Bill snorted and leaned in, nuzzling against Dipper’s cheek until Dipper smiled. They stayed like that for a few moments, enjoying each other’s warmth.

  
  


Admitting that he loved Bill was… scary.  
  
It had terrified him at first – admitting the existence of that feeling. That every time he saw Bill, Dipper’s heart would pick up its pace and he’d feel safe and warm and happy.  
  
It’d been awkward, at first, seeing Bill and thinking, _I love him._ The thought popped up constantly.  
  
When Bill smiled at him - _I love him._  
  
When Bill laughed, his golden face lighting up with the action - _I love him._  
  
When Bill’s arms wound around Dipper’s shoulders, holding him tight as they came down from the post-coital high - _I love him._  
  
It ate away at his worries, wore him down until he could whisper it out loud, into the warm space Bill left when he vanished away for the night – “I love you.”  
  
And when Bill appeared again the next morning, Dipper would smile and think the words to himself, and it wouldn’t scare him.  
  
It became normal.  
  
Time flew by. Every day moved by coloured with a summer haze – exploring in the forest, spending time with Mabel and Grunkle Stan, eating, sleeping, and Bill, Bill, Bill. He came around every day now, staying with Dipper for hours and leaving only in the dark of the night. Sometimes, he brought books, or scrolls, staying up with Dipper into the wee hours of the morning, dictating whole passages of information for Dipper to copy down into the Journal. He’s show Dipper where the faeries lived, or which parts of the river to look for Kelpies in, or how to find Dragon Crystals down the multiple caverns of the forest. Bill never spoke about demon lore, but Dipper didn’t mind. All the other knowledge Bill gave him was more than enough to occupy his time with.  
  
At the waning of the summer – when temperatures hit those perfect heights, he’d asked for a few days off for himself to go on an expedition.  
  
“Alone?” Grunkle Stan had said.  
  
“Into the mountains?” Mabel had added.  
  
They weren’t happy with him leaving, but he’d assured them in the end. “I’ll be fine. I’m twenty years old, I can take care of myself.”  
  
“You’re nineteen for a couple of weeks more yet.” Mabel huffed, but then hugged him goodbye and ordered him to be extra careful.  
  
He’d grinned and waved them goodbye, saying he’d be back in three days’ time. A couple hours down the road, he’d taken the amulet out of his back and called Bill, inviting him along for the journey.  
  
They’d slept under the stars, cocooned in the quiet of the forest. Bill pointed out constellations, telling Dipper of how they came to be created and which God was responsible.  
  
“There’s more than one God?” Dipper asked, propping himself up on his elbow and staring down at Bill. They’d picked a grassy hill for the evening, spreading out the blanket underneath them and lying down.  
  
Bill chuckled, “Oh, there are so many of them, kid. Each one uglier and meaner than the next.”  
  
He’d broken out into giggles, finding his comment hilarious. Dipper only raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask more.  
  
There was no hurry. He’d find out eventually. Some day. Who cared.  
  
He turned back to the stars, letting the night engulf him.

  
  


And just like that, summer had ended.  
  
His and Mabel’s shared birthday was a quiet family affair. Mabel made a cake, pink and chock-full of berries, as usual. Grunkle Stan even managed to find some candles, letting them blow it out together and make a wish. Dipper thought it was a tad bit childish, but Mabel insisted.  
  
“It’s a _tradition_!”  
  
“Sure it is.” Dipper snorted, but blew out the candle anyway. Mabel shot him a bright grin, and then cut him a slice of cake bigger than his head. 

  
  


He left for Mount Falls a week later.  
  
Mabel sniffled a little, and made him promise to send letters every week. It was a little better than the first time he’d left home at eighteen – Mabel had bawled, hugged him, and wouldn’t let go – but he still hated making his sister sad. Dipper said he’d come back sooner this time, and that made her brighten up.  
  
Grunkle Stan gave him that usual stoic smile, clapped him on the back and said, “Take care of yourself, kid.”

  
  


The trek down through the forest was less lonely, now that he could call Bill up anytime he wanted. They talked for hours while Dipper walked, Bill casting little protective charms whenever Dipper settled down to spend the night in the forest.  
  
They talked about the various flora and fauna around them, with Bill pointing out which flowers could be used for spells and which plants’ reputed ‘magical properties’ were complete bogus. Dipper took all of this down into his notebook – he’d left the Journal back at the Shack. It would be safer there. He remembered what Bill had said about the protective charms around the house, and hoped that nothing would happen to the book. It was nearly full now, a summer’s worth of research contained in the worn leather covers.  
  
The final night in the forest, Bill had settled Dipper in for the night and sat down beside him.  
  
“I can’t come in with you into the Falls.” he said.  
  
Dipper sat up. “Hmm? Why not?”  
  
Bill shook his head, sighing, “The place is full of sensor spells and protective charms. The Brotherhood doesn’t like to be caught unawares.”  
  
“Oh. Ok.” said Dipper, a little crestfallen. It made sense. Bill wasn’t a patron of the land, and demons were fiercely territorial. It wouldn’t do for Lord Naberus to sense him and cause a fight. A thought then occurred to Dipper: “Wait! But… how come they didn’t sense you when you were inside their headquarters?”  
  
Bill shook his head. “They don’t have any charms in there.” He snorted. “Foolish humans. Bet they thought a demon couldn’t get in undetected. Didn’t count on one being _summoned_ in, now did they?” He looked at Dipper. “Anyway, I have to leave you here, kid.” He put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “Will you be okay?”  
  
Dipper nodded. “Yeah?” He bit his lip. “See you soon?”  
  
Bill stood up, grinning. “As soon as you’re done, Pine Tree. I’ll be there.” And with a flash, he was gone.  
  
Dipper stared at the after-image of him, a worm of nervousness brewing in his gut.

  
  


Waking up the next morning only made it worse. By the time Dipper made it into the town – the sun was beginning its downward trek in the sky - he was an anxious mess.  
  
The ceremony would be held that evening, in a few hours, _oh my God this is it._  
  
Dipper sat down heavily into the inn bed, his fingers fumbling with the keys to his room. He tried calm his nervous shaking, breathing in, eyes darting around the room. Focusing on his scattered possessions helped.  
  
His few books lying in a neat stack in the corner, his notebook propped open beside them. His cloak, folded over the back of a chair. His quills and parchments, set on the table, his bag lying underneath. The agate amulet, on the bedside table, within easy reach.  
  
He picked it up, turning the stone over and over in his hands, breathing to the rhythm. The cool rock exuded calm, soft and golden. A constant connection. Dipper smiled. Even when he wasn’t there, Bill helped him. _Like a fairy tale prince,_ thought Dipper.  
  
This was his same attic room, the one he’d spent months in at the beginning of the year. Lazy Susan had been kind enough to give it to him for a reduced price, citing ‘exemplary behaviour’ and ‘returning customer policies’. Dipper knew the former statement was a lie, given that the room and the corridor leading up to it still held whiffs of sulfur.  
  
He put the amulet back and lay down. He had an hour to spare before he had to leave.  
  
The second he closed his eyes, he was out like a light.

  
  


Somehow, being at his own anointment ceremony felt less real than his romance with an honest-to-God demon.  
  
The hall of the Grandmaster was still as cold and dark as ever. Candles set in an elaborate summoning circle cast pale light onto the looming walls. Dipper shivered under his robes, though that might’ve been from nerves too.  
  
Wendy, a warm presence to his side, put her hand on his shoulder.  
  
“You okay?” she whispered.  
  
Dipper nodded, his voice stuck in his throat. The silence around them weighed him down. It was hard to breathe.  
  
Then, the doors to the hall yawned open, and in strode the leader of the summoners. They were different to the person who presided over Dipper’s first summoning. Dipper didn’t know their name, but he knew they weren’t the Grandmaster – Wendy said as much. The Grandmaster wouldn’t debase themselves by presiding over a simple anointment ceremony anyway, Dipper thought sardonically.  
  
The leader walked up to the summoning circle, looking around the room. They turned to Dipper and said, “Ah. So this is our brand new initiate.”  
  
Dipper nodded, choking out a, “Y-yes.”  
  
The leaded nodded. “Good. Good.” They clapped their hands, whirling back to the circle. “Alright, everyone! Let us begin.”  
  
The people around the room shuffled close to the centre, each taking up positions. With a gentle push from Wendy, Dipper moved in too, his feet heavy and uncertain. The light dimmed, candles flaring to life, their glare glinting off the bloody diagram on the floor. It was an echo of the one from Dipper’s first night here, only this circle was bigger, more ornate.  
  
The leader broke into their first verse; “O, ravenous God! O, festering Demon! We bow before You!”  
  
The chanters around the circle repeated the line, their voices rising and falling in unison.  
  
The leader cried again, “O, great Patron of our knowledge! O, Bringer of Wisdom and Worship! We summon you to our court!”  
  
Again, the chanters repeated the line, louder this time. Dipper shivered. The energy in the room crackled.  
  
“O, ravenous God! O, festering Demon! Show yourself, and bless our Brotherhood! Appear, O, great calamity!”  
  
The chant went around in circles, voices rising and falling like the rolling of waves. Electricity danced across Dipper’s skin, and somewhere between his fear and wonder, he took time to think.  
  
The last time this happened, he was in the circle, a blood offering to a terrible deity. Now, he stood as an equal to the worshippers around him, watching the way the blood on the floor glowed with every prayer.  
  
This would be the second demon he met.  
  
Wendy nudged him, whispering over the loud voices, “D’you remember your lines?”  
  
Dipper nodded.  
  
She smiled, and then the chanting stopped.  
  
The leader turned towards him. “Come, Brother Pines. Rise and meet your master.” A phantom wind was curling through their hair.  
  
Dipper breathed out and moved forward. His foot crossed the boundary of the circle, and a wave of energy burst over him, stinging and rippling. He gasped.  
  
The circle around him glowed brighter and brighter, until he had to shield his eyes from its glare. Blood roared in his ears, drowning out everything else.  
  
The light faded.  
  
Dipper lowered his arms, blinking out the spots in his vision.  
  
Before him - _Huh?_ \- stood the same demon that greeted him the first time, all those months ago.  
  
The same horns, rising like a crown above the demon’s head. The same cracked black skin, magma glowing through the lacerations. The same five eyes, slitted, all aimed at him.  
  
He almost let out an incredulous, _Bill?_ before it caught in his throat.  
  
Did all demons look like that? Couldn’t be. Did Bill and Naberus belong to the same demonic class? Did Bill just— Oh. Oh, that explained it. Bill had shapeshifted.  
  
While all demons could shapeshift, most settled on one particular form, especially demons that appeared in the mortal world. It helped to be recognisable. That explained why none of the Brothers noticed that they’d summoned Bill, the _wrong demon_ , that first time – he just shapeshifted into Naberus’ form.  
  
But why would Bill—?  
  
“The Brotherhood of the Blind Eye. It has been a long time.”  
  
Naberus’ voice was deep, resonating through Dipper’s bones and dragging him back into the present moment.  
  
The leader of the summoners bowed. “Lord Naberus. We are pleased to see you.”  
  
“Yes.” the demon’s voice rumbled. It turned to Dipper slowly, shifting its massive form one degree at a time.  
  
The leader swung a hand towards Dipper. “Lord Naberus, that is Brother Pines.” They bowed again. “We humbly ask that you anoint him into our fold, and bless him in his pursuit of knowledge.”  
  
The demon inclined its head, all five eyes still glued to Dipper.  
  
Seeing the same demonic form made it a little less unnerving, and everything made Dipper think of Bill. He couldn’t help noticing, however, how different this demon was to his Bill. It’s posture, its movements, all at odds with Bill’s usual lightning-fast pace. It was as if the two demons lived in a different timeline, and Naberus’ was falling behind.  
  
Naberus moved towards him, its great hot head coming up to Dipper’s face. Its eyes narrowed.  
  
The leader’s voice faltered. “Is… is something wrong, Lord Naberus?”  
  
The demon didn’t answer, its eyes still boring into Dipper’s head. It opened its mouth and breathed in, tasting the air like a venomous snake. Dipper shook.  
  
“Lord Naberus?” said the leader. "Is something not to your liking? I— We can assure you, Brother Pines has been tested, and he is fit to enter the order—”  
  
The demon hissed, “No…”  
  
Dipper froze.  
  
Naberus’ head rose up, poised to strike, the open mouth baring a cavern full of jagged teeth.  
  
Its voice rose to a snarl. “He is not fit. He is _tainted_.”  
  
Its great clawed hand swung back, swiping at Dipper and sending him flying towards the wall.  
  
“He is not fit!” Naberus roared.  
  
Dipper’s back hit the wall, pushing the air out of him. His back exploded into spasms of pain, and he slid down onto the floor. His ears were ringing like hell. Acid coiled through his stomach, pushing up his throat, mixing with the metallic tang of blood at the back of his mouth.  
  
“ _He is claimed by another!_ ”  
  
Dipper blinked. _What?_  
  
Hushed whispers erupted in the room, all eyes turning to Dipper. Wendy gasped, and the leader’s pale face glinted in the darkness.  
  
Naberus called up smoke and ash, swirling it around itself like a mantle. The toxic mixture curled through the air, stinging Dipper’s eyes and clouding the remaining pitiful light in the room. With another hiss, Naberus turned to him, and the ashcloud streamed towards him, hot and wrathful.  
  
_I’m going to die._  
  
He had enough time to scream before the cloud swallowed him, burning his skin and pushing itself into his mouth. He tried to scream again, but he didn’t have any air left. His throat burned.  
  
Distantly, he thought he could hear Wendy screaming. Naberus roared, and the cloud pressed in harder, heating up and searing Dipper’s flesh.  
  
He was going to die.  
  
He was going to die.  
  
_He was going to die._  
  
  
The cloud vanished.  
  
Dipper sucked in a loud lungful of air, the cold of it clawing through his throat. It came back up, blood spattering his lips. He reached up for his eyes, wiping away the tears gathering there. His hands shook so much that he missed on the first try, and somehow, that made the tears come harder.  
  
A gentle hand settled at the small of his back.  
  
“Dipper.”  
  
_Bill._  
  
Dipper whirled around, blind eyes desperate to find the source of the voice.  
  
Bill said, “Dipper, I’m going to get you out of here.”  
  
He guided Dipper’s hands to wrap around Bill’s neck, and held Dipper close. Dipper’s burnt skin rubbed into Bill’s scratchy coat, and he hissed.  
  
Bill petted his hair, murmuring, “Sorry, Pine Tree.”  
  
“Get me out of here, Bill.” Dipper rasps, his voice cracking.  
  
He buries himself into the crook of Bill’s neck, and wishes to be anywhere else.

  
  


The smoke, the heat, the thunder of noise in the background – everything vanishes in a whirl.  
  
Cold air floods all around him, stinging his eyes and searing his skin. He gasps, watching the air rise up in a white cloud even through the blur and the tears. Everything hurts.  
  
Bill doesn’t set him down, holding Dipper in his lap as he knees on the forest floor.  
  
Finally, Dipper whispers, “Where—Where are we?”  
  
“Just outside the Falls.” Bill whispers back. His fingers card through Dipper’s hair. “Are you alright?”  
  
Something pierces into Dipper’s lungs and it hurts to breathe. Tears well up in his eyes, spilling over and leaving freezing tracks. He buries his face into Bill’s chest, shaking his head.  
  
Bill sighs, hugging him tight. “Oh, Pine Tree…”  
  
They stay like that for a while. Bill rubs Dipper’s back, and Dipper sobs, letting out all of his hurt and worry and disappointment.  
  
Everything’s ruined. All ruined, turned to dust, everything he was working for for the last three years turned to ash in a matter of minutes. It _hurts_ , bubbling up in his chest and clawing up his throat, his shoulders shaking with the effort to control it.  
  
“Pine Tree, shhh… it’s going to be okay…”  
  
Dipper shakes his head, growling, “No, it’s not. Naberus… Naberus _rejected_ me.” He struggled to catch his breath. “He said I was _tainted_ … That I was _claimed by another_ …”  
  
Bill sighed, pressing into Dipper’s hair. “Oh, that fool…”  
  
Dipper pushed up, looking up into Bill’s eyes.  
  
He whispered, “Bill… please, tell me you didn’t know this would happen.”  
  
“I didn’t.” said Bill. His hand was rubbing comforting circles into Dipper’s back.  
  
Dipper relaxed, settling back into the hollow of Bill’s shoulder. It made it easier to bear.  
  
Then, Dipper murmured, “So… what happens now?”  
  
Bill shook his head, rocking them back and forth. His hand brushed Dipper’s ear. “I don’t know, Pine Tree.” He stilled.  
  
Dipper looked up.  
  
There was a glint in Bill’s eye. He said, “It isn’t safe here.”  
  
Dipper frowned, humming a question.  
  
“Naberus.” said Bill. “I can feel him. He’s coming.”  
  
Dipper couldn’t feel anything, but then again, he wasn’t a demon.  
  
“Sh-should we leave?”  
  
“Yes. But…”  
  
Dipper swallowed. “But what?”  
  
Bill looked out into the woods. “Naberus is strong. He has many followers. I’m… I’m not sure the Shack would be safe either.”  
  
“But… what about the protection charms?” Dipper cried.  
  
Bill shook his head. “They can’t keep demons out, only dampen their power.” His arms tightened around Dipper’s shoulders. “They can still hurt you, Pine Tree.”  
  
His blood went cold.  
  
“Th-then… what can we do?” Dipper whispered.  
  
Leaves rustled in the canopy above them, the wind whistling through the low-lying branches and shuttering in the underbrush.  
  
“We can return to my domain.” said Bill.  
  
The wind died down, and the rustling stopped.  
  
Dipper jerked back, eyes widening.  
  
“What, t-to Hell?” he hissed.  
  
Bill nodded, eyes firmly fixed on Dipper’s face.  
  
“You’d be safe there. My powers would be much greater. I could protect you.”  
  
Dipper’s hands were shaking, scrabbling for purchase on Bill’s coat.  
  
“I could _protect you_ , Dipper.” Bill insisted.  
  
Dipper screwed his eyes shut, hands clenching into fists. This wasn’t happening. No! He’d no place to go but Hell? This was a nightmare.  
  
“Pine Tree, please, we don’t have much time.” Bill urged. “I need your permission.”  
  
Dipper was frozen, stuck between left or right and there was no going back once he made up his mind. Humans didn’t just come back from Hell, or just go to Hell, for that matter. Would it change something in him? Would he be able to go back? The choice was maddening. But then… He thought of Mabel. Grunkle Stan. The Shack. He’d endanger them all by going back, and he wanted to keep his family safe. He trusted Bill, too, to protect him from whatever monster or sickness of the soul Hell would have in store for him.  
  
“ _Pine Tree._ ” Bill hissed.  
  
Dipper shuddered.  
  
“Let’s go.” he whispered.  
  
Dipper’s chest was heaving. Saying it out loud scared him more than anything.  
  
Bill stilled, looking into Dipper’s eyes.  
  
“Are you sure, kid?”  
  
Dipper’s nod was stuttering at best. “Yes.”  
  
Bill paused. He licked his lips, and whispered, “Okay.”  
  
“Okay.” Dipper whispered back.  
  
Bill raised a hand up, pressing two cool fingers onto Dipper’s eyelids. The darkness was welcoming and warm.  
  
Faintly, Dipper heard Bill say, “Sleep, Pine Tree.”  
  
His racing heart slowed.  
  
He let the cool air wash over him, breathing in deep and growing heavy.  
  
Darkness overtook him.

  
  


 

  
  


Finally, he had it in his grasp.  
  
Months, it took him. Arduous months of planning, of perfectly controlled moves and countermoves. A drawn-out game of mind chess where he was finally the winner.  
  
He stared at the meatbag in his arms, amazed out how something so powerful could be concealed in such a pitiful form. It was knocked out, its thoughts locked tight behind that bloody mental shield, but he was sure it didn’t suspect a thing.  
  
Vicious joy sizzled inside him, roaring through his core. The possibilities rages in his mind. The ways he would use this meatbag!  
  
Its power, its immense, rare power - it was finally his.  
  
The proverbial canon in the knife fight.  
  
The tool he would use to carve his victory out of the rotting carcasses of his enemies.  
  
The weapon that would change everything.  
  
Bill Cipher grinned.  
  
  
_The Nullifier._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMFG ITS OVER  
> ITS FINALLY OVER I CAN REST
> 
> watch out for a sequel ;) ;0  
> (its coming, hopefully, if im not killed by my college application essays lol)  
> (what even is the common application srsly my poor irish soul cant comprehend this bs)
> 
> i'm so sorry i don't reply! i don't want to spoil anything >~

**Author's Note:**

> \--------------  
> omg first fic and its filthy filthy porn  
> i had this saved as "SIN" on my desktop  
> what am i doing with my life
> 
> EDIT: i love you all \\(ToT)/ thank you so much for your kind comments omg


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